


Killian Jones and The Girl Who Lived

by thegladelf



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Adventure, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Harry Potter Setting, Captain Swan Big Bang, F/M, Fantasy, Hogwarts First Year AU, and nobody had to die, except the badguys, get ready for a long ride y'all, i'm so sorry for what i'm getting you into, you know when things were light and fun
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-27
Updated: 2017-10-15
Packaged: 2018-12-20 16:56:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 50,247
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11925195
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thegladelf/pseuds/thegladelf
Summary: Every young witch or wizard’s first year at Hogwarts is life-changing, but Killian doesn’t know just how life-changing it will be until he meets Emma Swan. OUAT/Harry Potter AU following Killian and Emma’s first year.





	1. A Stranger at the Door

It was a rainy, gray Tuesday when a visitor knocked at the Joneses’ door. Not a hard, demanding knock, nor a soft, timid knock. If a knock could be polite, but firm, it was this knock.

The Joneses were hardly a normal family--even ensconced in the middle of  London as they were--as one might guess if they caught sight of their unusual visitor. He was a tall, thin old man with a beard long enough to tuck into his belt and hair nearly as long. From his purple cloak to his high, buckled boots every bit of him clashed with the busy street. However, the boy on the other side of the door wasn't fazed by the man's odd attire as he squinted through the peephole.

“Is it your father?” Mrs. Alice Jones appeared in the doorway, her younger son propped on one hip and an oddly carved stick in her hand. It was, in fact, a wand. Alice was a witch.

“It’s Professor Dumbledore.”

“Liam, come here,” his mother said with forced calm. “Take your brother for me.”

Liam jumped down from the little stool at the door. In the year or so since the Joneses moved in, few of their old friends had visited—in fact almost none of their old friends knew where they were—and so his perch held a constant vigil at the front door. Especially when Papa went out. He didn’t quite understand why he and his brother couldn’t leave the cramped flat, but he spent many contented afternoons watching the people pass by on the street.

He took his brother without complaint, though he had to wrap both arms around the toddler to keep from dropping him.

“Listen to me, Liam,” Alice Jones said, smoothing a hand over his dark curls. “I’m going to make sure it really is the professor. If you hear anything, anything at all that sounds bad, I want you to touch the boot on the mantle. Make sure you have Killian’s hand when you do, alright?”

“But you said I must never—”

“I know, baby. I’m giving you permission. Just this once.” She leaned down and kissed his curls with shaking lips.

Liam nodded solemnly and retreated to the sitting room.

The clicks from four different locks echoed in the tiny hall. Alice left the chain done up, a nice, sturdy brass thing that would do her no good against the kind of enemies who drove her into hiding, but it might buy her boys some time.

Albus Dumbledore stared at her over half-moon spectacles, his hair and beard curling in the damp air.

"Good afternoon, Professor," Alice said. "Tell me, what is your favorite candy?"

"Lemon drops," the rough voice replied.

Alice sighed. The door creaked mournfully as she closed it to undo the chain. “Come in, Albus. I’ll admit, I had hoped you were Brennan.” She smiled as she relocked the door. “But it is nice to see a new face.”

Liam, leaving his brother standing by the mantle, trotted over as their visitor followed his mother into the sitting room.

Dumbledore smiled fondly at the boy. “Ah, come to see what I’ve brought you today?”

"Yes, sir."

"Liam," Alice hissed. "What do you say?"

"Please," Liam said, remembering his manners.

Albus Dumbledore patted a few pockets before find the right one, he reached in and pulled out a yellow candy wrapped in white paper. "Perhaps you'd like to try a lemon drop? Quite a rarity in our world," he said with a conspiratorial wink. "It's muggle made."

Liam's blue eyes grew two sizes as he held his hand out. "Thank you, Professor."

"And I know lemon drops are a bit small for someone of Killian's age, but perhaps he'd like a chocolate frog?" Dumbledore said, pulling a purple box from another pocket. "I dare say, he'll probably enjoy chasing it more than eating it."

Alice nodded, brushing strands of dark, unruly hair from her face. "I imagine he will. I'm not sure which of my boys has cabin fever worse."

Dumbledore handed the box to Killian, who turned it over in chubby hands. “There now, young Master Liam, why don’t you go help your brother with that while I have a chat with your mother, hmm?”

“Here,” Alice said, scooping Killian up and setting him on the couch. “I’ll just be over there if you need me.”

Liam obediently scrambled up onto the couch, helping his brother with the candy wrapper as his mother and her one-time teacher retreated to the other side of the room.

“I assume you’ve come because you have news.” Alice wrapped her worn cardigan around herself.

“Quite a bit of it, I’m afraid. Not all of it good, but some...” He pulled his glasses off, cleaning them carefully on the sleeve of his robes. The spectacles went back on his nose and were carefully adjusted. He folded his hands inside his voluminous sleeves as he continued, “I’ll start with a bit of the bad first, as one leads to the other.”

Alice nodded. She clasped trembling hands together.

“It is my regret to inform you that Lily and James Swan were murdered last night,” he said in a low, practiced tone.

Alice gasped, then slapped a hand over her mouth, eyes darting to where Liam corralled his brother’s chocolate frog on the couch. Tears glistened in her eyes.

“Was it…” she trailed off, her lips pressed tight together and eyes wide with fear.

Dumbledore nodded solemnly. “I’m afraid it was, but that leads to the bit of good news I have for you.  Rumplestiltskin is dead. He made a choice last night and it was not your son. It should be safe for you to return home.”

Alice swallowed. “What about Emma? Did he…”

“Quite safe. It appears she managed to throw his own curse back at him. It is quite remarkable.”

“How? She’s only a child.”

Dumbledore nodded. "Wiser men than I are stumped by this. It will take some thought, quite a lot of it, I imagine. However she did it, last night she vanquished the Dark One. They are calling her The Girl Who Lived.”

Alice turned her back to her boys, swiping at wet cheeks before drawing a shaky breath. "How is she? Did he hurt her at all?"

"Aside from a cut on her forehead, she came out quite well, I think."

"Except that she's an orphan," Alice said quietly.

"Compared to how it might have ended for her, my dear, I would say she is better than could have been hoped," Dumbledore said. He reached into his pocket, pulling out a handful of lemon drops. He offered them to Alice, shrugging when she declined. "I have already taken to steps to see that she is cared for."

“Lily and James had no family to speak of." Alice’s eyes narrowed. “You’re not thinking of putting her with that wretched Petunia… You are. No, absolutely not.”

“I’m afraid the options are limited…”

“What about Ruby? She’s the girl’s godmother after all.” Alice lifted her chin, hand propped on her hips. “Or what about here? Brennan and I could give her a good home. Lily would want her with people who love her.”

Dumbledore looked at her gravely, his eyes very sad. “Perhaps we should retreat to a more private location, I’m afraid there’s more I have to tell you.”

# # #

Alice took her time putting the boys to bed that night, rocking Killian in her arms until he fell sound asleep and lingering as she tucked Liam in. She talked with him, keeping him awake as long as she dared and dreading the moment his eyes closed for the night and left her on her own.

“Mama?” he asked, his fingers picking sleepily at the loose thread of his blanket.

“Yes, my love?”

“Did Dumbledore say when Papa is coming back?”

Alice swallowed, pushing down the feelings that clawed at her throat. “No, baby.”

“Why not?”

“Because…” She took a deep breath, taking her son’s small hands in her own. She had hoped to put this off for a few days more. Killian was too young to notice, a few days and he would have forgotten all about his Papa, but Liam would remember. And Liam would keep asking. “Because Papa isn’t coming home. Papa died today.”

Liam blinked at her. “How?”

“Bad wizards,” Alice said, her voice breaking. “Bad wizards killed him.”

She couldn’t tell him the whole truth, not yet. When he was older maybe, if he asked, she might give him all the gruesome details, but not now. Now, he just needed to know that his father was dead.

“So he’s never coming back? Never ever?”

Alice shook her head.

Tears welled up in his big, blue eyes and she gathered him up in her arms, muffling his sobs against her shoulder so he didn’t wake his brother. He cried until he fell asleep.

Alice was not so lucky. Even after she cried all her tears, she could not sleep. Eight years of marriage meant that she had trouble falling asleep alone even on the best of nights and now, though she longed for the numbness of sleep, it danced away from her. She lay there, staring up at the ceiling of her bedroom, afraid to close her eyes. Each time she did her mind told her that if she reached out, Brennan would be there on the other side of the bed.

“Mama?” Liam’s voice broke the stillness well past midnight.

Alice propped herself on her elbow. “Yes, baby?”

“Killian can’t sleep.”

She smiled. “Can’t he now?”

Liam shook his head.

She reached out and tousled his hair. “Well, then, what say you and I keep him company in here and see if that helps?”

Her son nodded vigorously.

As expected, she found Killian sleeping soundly when she crept into the boys’ room. He melted into her, boneless and grumpy when she pulled him out of his crib and was already back asleep by the time she returned to her room. She helped Liam tuck him in beside her and then held the covers up as he crawled into bed on her other side, pulling him close and burying her nose in his fine hair. The curls tickled.

“Mama?”

“Hmm?”

“Are you gonna go fight the bad wizards that killed Papa?”

Alice swallowed. “I have to. It’s my job and now that…” She knew she could say the name now. Should say the name and refuse to live in fear. But it stuck in her throat. “Now that You Know Who isn’t after your brother, it’s time for me to go back to work.” Especially since she had to provide for her family all on her own now.

“Good,” Liam said.

Alice sighed, glad that this wouldn’t end in another meltdown. Liam had been nearly ecstatic to have her home with him every day for the last year. He was young, but despite her best attempts to hide any injuries, he knew her job was dangerous.

“When I grow up,” Liam whispered. “I wanna fight bad wizards just like you. I wanna be an oro too.”

“Auror, sweet.” Alice chuckled. “And I think you would be very good at it.”

She fell asleep like that. Left arm curled around her oldest son, right hand holding her baby’s hand. And as she fell asleep, she thought of another child. A little girl she had only seen in the pictures her best friend sent. The best friend she would never see again. She wondered how long it might be before she met The Girl Who Lived.

All those letters and pictures…Alice decided she would save them for later, so that someday, little Emma might know just how much her parents loved her.

She and Lily had had such plans when they found out their children would be born around the same time. It seemed fate when the two babies were born within a day of each other. They thought they would raise their children together. Be each other’s family and give their children the family neither of them ever had. But now, letters and pictures were all she had of her best friends. Of her husband.

She swallowed back the tears. She would keep it together for her boys, they needed her now more than ever.

 


	2. The Girl Who Lived

Killian twisted the hem of his ratty sweater as he watched the train approach. It was the shiniest, reddest thing he had ever seen. Any other day his brother’s hand on his shoulder would be the only thing keeping him from falling over as he stretched onto his toes for a better view. But today he clung to Liam’s side, shying away from the noise and the crowd that surged forward.

“Oh, buck up, Killian,” Liam said, leaning next to Killian’s ear so he didn’t have to shout over the squealing brakes. His brother knelt, squeezing his arms gently. “It’ll be alright. You’ll barely miss me, I promise. Once they get you sorted, you’ll be so busy making new friends you won’t even think to write me.”

“Yes, I will. I’ll write every day!”

Liam laughed.

“I’ll not hold you to that. Wait until you get your first homework assignment.” Liam tried to stand, but Killian had a death grip on his wrists. “Killian, I’ll be right here, on this platform when you come home. I promise.” He roughed up Killian’s hair as he stood. “And with any luck, I’ll have a decent flat by that time.”

Killian looked down, scuffing his shoe against the ground. “Do you think—”

“I don’t know,” Liam sighed. “I—I hope so. But she’s been sick a long time.”

Killian glanced up, catching a hint of the disappointment that clouded his brother’s eyes every time their mother was mentioned. _Why didn’t you tell me, Killian?_

Liam cleared his throat. “Come on, let’s get your things onto the train.”

With a wink at Killian, Liam pulled out his wand and tapped the trunk. There was a quick flash of light and suddenly all of Killian’s worldly possessions were floating a foot off the ground.

Killian’s jaw dropped.

It was a simple spell, but Killian had seen precious little magic in his home despite having a witch for a mother. Liam seemed to know everything about magic. He had graduated from Hogwarts with high marks last term and already had a job in the Aurors’ office.

Liam gestured for Killian to get the trunk and set off for the back of the train.

Killian closed his fingers around the handle, half expecting it to spark or the trunk to drop suddenly, but it only needed a gentle tug and it followed him. Tightening his grip, Killian set off in his brother’s wake. A little thrill of excitement ran through him, maybe going to Hogwarts wouldn’t be so bad if he could learn to do things like this.

They found a spot and Liam helped him shove his trunk in.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t buy you an animal,” Liam said as he caught Killian eyeing the snowy owl a little further down the line.

Killian shrugged. “It’s alright.” It would have been nice to have a pet, but he knew Liam had scraped everything he could just to buy the secondhand robes and schoolbooks, so he wasn’t going to complain. “It’d be a mess of work to train it.”

Liam smiled. “Perhaps we’ll hold off until we can afford a trained pet then.”

Someone rushed past, jostling them, and Liam grabbed Killian by the hand as they hurried toward the passenger’s compartment. Twice, they were nearly separated by the rush of students trying to get their things on the train before it left the platform. They found a door that wasn’t packed with people and Liam pulled Killian in for a hug.

“You’ll do great, little brother,” Liam whispered.

All of Killian’s excitement fled, dragged down by the sinking of his gut. What if this was the last time he saw his older brother? After all, Father had planned to return on the night he died, hadn’t he? He couldn’t remember that night, but he was sure it was true.

He clutched at Liam’s jacket. “What if something happens?”

“Now you listen here, Killian,” Liam said, the teasing lilt in his voice sounding very much like Mother on her good days. “Nothing’s going to happen to me. I’ve got years before they let me do anything dangerous. And as for you?” He tugged at Killian’s ear. “You’ll be safe as houses at Hogwarts.” Liam hugged him one last time, roughing up his hair all over again just for good measure. “Now you be sure to send me an owl as soon as you’re settled.”

Killian did his best to hold his head high as he walked down the car looking for an empty compartment. Everyone he passed wore neat, crisp clothes—some of them already wore their school robes—and he felt like the rattiest, smallest child on the train.

Someone bumped into Killian from behind as he stepped back from yet another full compartment.

“Hey!” cried a high, feminine voice.

“Oh, sorry,” Killian said, ducking head, more convinced than ever that going to Hogwarts was a horrible idea. He tried to slip past, but the girl he ran into had friends and they spread out behind her to block the way.

“You’d better be.” Her dark eyes narrowed, hands going to her hips. She took a step closer. “Wait? Don’t I know you?” She tucks a lock of straight, dark hair behind an ear. A sly smile stretched across her face. “I do know you. You were all over the _Prophet_ a few months ago.”

Kilian bowed his head in shame, knowing full well what she referred to, despite Liam’s best attempts to shield him from it. Liam couldn’t, not when Killian had spent most of his childhood getting up early enough to retrieve each day’s edition of the _Daily Prophet_ before his mother woke. It was impossible to tell what kind of story would upset her, so it was just best to dispose of the wizarding newspaper before she saw it. There were several mornings that he found himself crouched over the paper on the stoop before he remembered that Mother wasn’t there anymore, she would never see any of the stories, but he had.

He knew exactly which article Regina referred to. He remembered the picture, splashed across the front page, every detail of his mother’s quivering face repeating over and over again like a broken video.

The girl tapped her chin. “What was it? Mother went mad I think?”

“What of it?” He clenched his jaw.

Behind her, her two friends crossed their arms. He knew the look in all three pairs of eyes, he’d seen it in countless people who were bigger and stronger than he was, these girls were geared up for a fight and he was their target.

The dark-haired girl shrugged. “You know, my mother says it wouldn’t have happened if we didn’t teach magic to Muggles. Pity too, I hear the Joneses were a good family before your dad went and married a Mudblood. Bet he’d regret it now. If he was alive.”

“Shut up,” Killian spat, clenching his fists. He didn’t know the word she just used, but he understood the tone enough to know she had called his mum something nasty. “You don’t know what you’re talking about. My mum was a hero.”

One of the other girls, a blonde, snorted. “Your mum was hardly fit to wield a wand.”

“My mother says she cracked the minute the Dark One’s followers got ahold of her,” the first girl added. “And she would know. My aunt was the one that did it. Mother was at the trial and everything.”

Killian wanted to lunge at her, slug her right in her weasel-like face, but Liam paid good money—hard-earned money—for everything he needed to go to Hogwarts. He wasn’t going to get expelled before he ever got there.

 “You don’t know what you’re talking about,” he muttered, trying to push past them.

“Are you calling my mother a liar?” the first girl asked. She stepped forward, shoving Killian hard.

Thanks to surprise and over a year of barely adequate meals, she was bigger and stronger than Killian and he went down hard. Pain shot up his spine and his head cracked against the floor. The walls tilted—were still tilting when a sharp crack echoed down the corridor.

“Hey, what’s the trouble here?” A girl with long, blonde hair blocked his view of the trio, her hand held out to him. “Are you okay? Did they do this?”

Killian nodded. Her hand felt bony in his, but she pulled him to his feet with relative ease.

“I’m sorry, who are you?” the first girl asked.

The new girl spun, hands on her hips, head thrown back. Three gasps cut the silence.

“I’m Emma. Emma Swan.”

The dark-haired girl’s eyes went wide, her sneer falling.

“So it’s true. The Girl Who Lived has come to Hogwarts.” She burst into a grin. She nodded over each shoulder, first to the dark-skinned girl with curly hair and then to the pinch-faced blonde. “This is Ursula Crabbe and Maleficent Goyle. And I’m Regina. Regina Malfoy.” Her sneer returned as she eyed Killian. “You’ll soon find that some wizarding families are better than others, Swan, you don’t want to go hanging around with the wrong sort.” With a toss of her hair, she extended a hand to Emma. “I can help you there.”

Emma glanced at the proffered hand, smiling sickly sweet as her eyes flicked back up to Regina’s.

“I think I can tell the wrong sort for myself. Thanks.”

She hauled back and popped Regina in the nose so quickly that Killian didn’t even register the blow until Regina screamed in outrage, her hands flying up to her face.

The crack of two more doors sliding open sounded in the corridor.

From behind him, a lad called out, “What’s going on?” as the same time that a girl called out, “Regina? What happened?”

The latter shoved Maleficent aside, trying to pry Regina’s hands away from her face. She was mite of a thing, short and round-faced, with large, green eyes and short, black hair.

“She hit me,” Regina moaned as the new girl finally peeled her hands away. A little bit of blood dripped from her nose.

“You pushed him first,” Emma shot back, jerking her thumb at Killian.

“And insulted my mum,” he added. “Called her a Mudblood, whatever that means.”

Emma didn’t react, but both newcomers gasped.

“Regina, honestly,” the dark-haired girl muttered. “You brought that on yourself, then. You can find someone else to fix this.”

The trio glared at Killian and his three rescuers. Maleficent and Ursula exchanged an uncertain glance.

Emma shrugged. “Go ahead, try. Or is it not as much fun when the odds aren’t in your favor?”

If looks could kill, Emma Swan would have been a smoking pile of ash.

Finally, Regina stuck her nose in the air. “This isn’t over, Swan.” She and her friends spun on their heels and marched down the hall in unison, disappearing into one of the compartments as she called, “You can find a new place to sit Mary Margaret.”

“Are you alright?” Mary Margaret asked, peering at Killian. “I’m sorry about my cousin, she’s a bit of a…

“Bitch?” Emma supplied.

“Well, that’s one way of putting it.” She held out her hand, a bright friendly smile on her face as she surveyed the three of them. Killian got the sudden feeling that the four of them no longer had any choice but to be friends. “I’m Mary Margaret Blanchard.”

“Killian,” he said, taking her hand. “Killian Jones.”

He tried not to flinch at the spark of recognition in the eyes of her and the blond boy, but both were polite enough to keep their mouths shut.

The blond boy grinned. “David Nolan.”

“And I’m Emma,” Emma said.

“Emma Swan? That Emma?”

Emma blushed.

And suddenly the name clicked. Even as sheltered from the magical world as he grew up, Killian knew about Emma Swan. He felt very small. This was the girl who defeated You Know Who as a baby and she—The Girl Who Lived herself—had come to his rescue. Killian wanted to thank her, but his mouth seemed to have forgotten how to work.

David slung an arm around Emma’s shoulders. “Yeah, _that_ Emma. Listen, we’ve got a whole compartment to ourselves, why don’t you two come sit with us?” His blue eyes twinkled with mischief, like they were all in on some great secret.

He led them to a compartment that was empty save for a sour-faced boy sitting against the window.

“This is my twin brother, James,” David said, though he really needn’t have added the clarification. It was obvious the boys were twins.

“More people, David? Really?” he huffed.

“There’s plenty of room.”

“Yeah, that’s probably what Mom and Dad said, too.”

“Oh stop it,” David said, shoving his brother’s shoulder as he sat. “He’s just bitter cause everything we have is handed down from our older brothers. We’re fifth and sixth to go to Hogwarts. It’s a lot to live up to.”

“That’s an understatement,” James said as he stared gloomily out the window. “Tom was head boy, Phil was Quidditch captain. Artie’s a Prefect now and even Happy gets good marks for all the goofing off he and that friend of his do. And we’re expected to do as well as the others, but if we do, it’s not like Mum and Dad’ll care cause the others did it first.”

“Never get anything new with five brothers, either,” David said. “Old robes, old wands…”

“And no pets.”

“We’ve got Scabbers.” David reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a fat, gray rat. It’s fur was patchy in places and despite less than gentle handling, it was snoring.

“You mean, _you’ve_ got Scabbers,” James said. “Even if you could share a rat, I wouldn’t want to share that mangy, old thing.”

David held the rat up for everyone to see. “Used to be Arthur’s, but Mum and Dad got him an owl when he made Prefect. But they couldn’t—well, why spend money on more pets than you need, right?”

 James glowered. “Why not just come out with it, Davey. We’re poor. They’ll figure it out soon enough.”

David went red all the way to his hairline. Hastily, he started to stuff the rat back in his jacket pocket, his eyes on the floor. The way James said the word _poor_ had Killian feeling a little dirty himself.

“Nothing wrong with scraping by,” Emma said with a shrug. “I didn’t have any money at all until Hagrid took me to Diagon Alley.”

Everyone’s eyes turned to her and the compartment grew very quiet.

“So it’s true?” Mary Margaret said. “You really…you know…?” She gestured daintily at Emma’s scar.

Emma pushed her hair back and there it was, a jagged line just shy of the center of her forehead. The dull red of it stood out against her pale skin, still angry, but old. She let her hair fall back in place and Killian didn’t understand how he missed the mark, if anything, her bangs only highlighted it.

David stared with wide eyes. “So that’s where You-Know-Who…”

Emma nodded.

“Do you remember any of it?” James asked.

“James!” his twin protested.

“What? It’s just a question?”

“Maybe she doesn’t want to talk about it,” David hissed.

Emma shrugged. “It’s fine. I don’t really remember much. I didn’t even know it was Rumplestilskin until—”

Four nearly identical hisses echoed in the compartment. As much as Mother sheltered Killian from the magical world, even _he_ knew that you never said Rumplestiltskin’s name aloud. The one time he dared to use the name, it had taken most of an evening to calm her down again. Of course, with Mother, You-Know-Who and the Dark One were nearly as dangerous.

“You said You-Know-Who’s name!” David said with equal parts terror and awe.

Emma looked utterly perplexed.

Mary Margaret finally managed a soft smile. “It’s just no ever says that name. My gran says only the very brave or very foolish say it out loud. I’m not sure why, it’s just always been that way.”

“I wasn’t trying to be brave.” Emma twisted her hands in her lap. “I just never knew you shouldn’t. I don’t—I don’t know anything about magic or wizards or—or any of it.” Her voice cracked on the last word. She continued so softly that everyone in the compartment leaned in to catch her words. “I bet I’m the worst in the class.”

David and Mary Margaret were quick to contradict her, using soft, soothing tones like you might with a skittish pet. Emma only ducked her head lower.

“It’s alright,” Killian said, cutting David off mid-sentence. “I don’t know much of anything either, except for what I’ve read in our school books. I was practically raised a Muggle too.” He tried to ignore the way the other three pointedly looked away from him. “We can learn it all together.”

Emma glanced up and offered a small smile.

“And I’ll help you!” Mary Margaret exclaimed.

Just then, their door slid back and a round-faced woman peeked in, her smile so wide her dimples looked permanent.

“Anything off the cart, dears?”

Mary Margaret jumped to her feet, followed by Emma, but Killian, David, and James turned to the window—James even stuck his nose in the air a bit—and pretended to be engrossed with the passing field of cows.

The seat bounced a bit as Emma sat next to Killian again, her arms laden with treats if the rustling was any indication. Sure enough, when he turned back to her, she had dumped a veritable mountain of candy on the seat between them. Bertie Bott’s Every Flavor Beans and Chocolate Frogs and Drooble’s Best Blowing Gum and Licorice Wands and so much more.

“I’ve never had any of it,” Emma said with a sheepish grin. “I think I lost my head a bit. You’ll all help me if I can’t finish this, right?”

“James and I’ve got sandwiches, thanks,” David said, reaching into his bag and not quite hiding his grimace as he pulled out a baggie of slightly squashed sandwiches.

James made a face. “Corned beef? Mum knows I don’t like corned beef.”

Killian thought he could like corned beef if it came along with a mother who made him sandwiches. If the look on her face was anything to go by, Emma agreed with him.

“I’ll trade you a…” she paused, eyeing the flaky pastry in her hand.

“A pumpkin pasty,” Mary Margaret supplied helpfully.

“A pumpkin pasty for one of your sandwiches.”

James sneered at her, but David slapped a half a sandwich in her hand with a grin.

“They’re a bit dry,” he said around a mouthful of sandwich.

Emma shrugged. “That’s not the worst thing a sandwich can be.”

Soon, her treats were making the rounds around the compartment, David and James’ pride forgotten after she forced some of her sweets on Killian and Mary Margaret as well. The boys set to the Chocolate Frogs, mostly ignoring the candy and instead griping about how none of the cards were the ones they needed to complete their collection. As they had no collection, Emma and Killian snatched up the discarded cards. Emma goggled over the moving pictures.

“So that’s Dumbledore?” she asked, turning it over to read the back.

Her awe over the Chocolate Frogs was nothing compared to the faces she made over Bertie Bott’s beans. She’d bought several packs and the group sat alternately grimacing and cheering depending on whether the beans were good or bad.

“Oh, that’s awful,” Emma said, spitting what turned out to be a spinach bean into her hand. “Why would anyone want to make such a thing?”

The other four shrugged.

“Do you suppose we’re getting close?” David asked.

“I don’t know.” Mary Margaret scooted up on her bench, her legs kicking at the side. “Have you thought about what house you’ll be in?”

“I hope I’m in Gryffindor.”

James snorted. “Of course you do. Mama’s perfect baby boy.”

“And you don’t want to be?” David shot back, his eyebrows shooting up.

“Wait, what’s a Gryffindor?” Emma’s nose crinkled as she looked at each of them.

“It’s a name one of the school houses,” Killian supplied. “There are four. Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, and Slytherin.”

Mary Margaret nodded. “I hope I’m in Gryffindor, too. My dad was in Gryffindor.” She shrugged. “Though I suppose there’s no shame in being in any of the houses.”

“Except Slytherin.” David’s face puckered up. “There’s not a witch or wizard that went bad that wasn’t in Slytherin.”

James, Killian noted, looked pointedly out the window, his lips pressed into a thin line.

“They aren’t all bad,” Mary Margaret said hotly. “My mother was in Slytherin.” She turned on Emma and Killian. “What about you two? What houses do you think you’ll be in?”

Killian shrugged. “My brother says I’m a Hufflepuff for sure. Just like him.”

“I’ve no idea,” Emma said. She picked at the cuff of her sweater. “Probably whatever house gets stuck with the short straw.”

Killian opened his mouth to say she was a Gryffindor if he ever saw one. At least, he thought so based on what Liam had told him about the loudest, brashest house. His brother always spoke of his friends in Gryffindor with equal parts awe and exasperation. The train whistle cut him off before he could speak though and suddenly they were all in a flurry, pulling their robes out of their school bags.

“Oh, bother, has anyone seen a toad?” Mary Margaret asked. “I told Gran she should have gotten me an owl, I’m absolutely useless with amphibians.”

At last, with some creative maneuvering, they had all donned their robes and repacked their bags.

“Oh,” Emma gasped. “Look.”

Out the window, they caught a glimpse of a massive castle. It loomed over a large, glassy lake, the tall towers stretching higher than anything Killian ever remembered seeing. Lights shone in every window, shifting with the telltale flicker of candlelight.

“Have you ever seen anything like it?” Emma whispered.

Killian shook his head.

The five of them clustered as tightly as possible, keeping each other upright as they were bumped and jostled toward the door.  All around them, boys and girls whispered excitedly, but over the general din, one voice stood out. A big, booming voice only partially muffled by the walls and windows of the train.

Emma’s face lit up.

“I know who that is,” she said, bursting away from the group the moment they cleared the doors.

With a look at David, Killian took off after her, though he needn’t have worried. She pulled up short not twenty feet down the platform, right in front of the largest person Killian had ever seen. If Emma doubled in height, she would still have to crane her neck to look him in the eye and he was nearly as wide as she was tall. He wore a great coat made more of patches than anything else and his hair and beard obscured nearly all his features save for intelligent, black eyes.

“Hello, Hagrid!” Emma beamed at him as the others caught up.

“Hello, Emma.” He had a pleasant voice when he wasn’t bellowing, soft and rough. Killian liked it immediately. “Is that everyone? Any stragglers?” Hagrid hoisted his lamp up even higher, peering behind the group. He nodded in satisfaction. “Alright, all you first years, yeh get to take a trip across the lake. Gives you the best view. Four to a boat.”

Hagrid stepped back, letting the children surge forward. Emma was practically bouncing as she approached the shoreline. The water glistened, black as a beetle’s back and twice as shiny, the little boats bobbing in time with waves that could only be seen by slivers of moonlight. Emma jumped into one of the boats and Killian and Mary Margaret followed. David hesitated before waving them on as he hurried after his twin.

“Hold up,” Hagrid said, stooping low to the ground, “is somebody missing a toad?”

Mary Margaret raised her hand. “Trevor!”

Hagrid handed over the toad and she stuffed Trevor bag in her back as a petite girl with long brown hair climbed into their boat.

“Off yeh go,” Hagrid said, shoving the boat into the water. “And keep yer hands out of the water. Don’t want anything getting’ any ideas!”

Emma shot a startled glance at Killian, but he only shrugged. Liam had given him an old copy _Hogwarts: A History_ over the summer, so Killian knew that all kinds of interesting creatures lived in the lake—including a giant squid—but one look at the faces in the boats around him convinced him that he should keep quiet about that little detail.

The boats sailed toward the castle, despite not having oars or a sail of any kind and Killian wondered what spell moved them so smoothly. His awe turned to other things, however, as they approached the castle. His neck bent nearly in half as he tried to get a good look at the castle overshadowing them. It looked less ethereal this close up, the architecture squat and solid, like one of the old cathedrals he'd visited on a trip at his Muggle school.

Hagrid led them up a sandy beach and over a stone bridge, wide enough that with students walking four or even five abreast there was room on either side. Killian held his breath as they approached doors that, he thought, could probably withstand a dragon.

"Alright, up them stairs," Hagrid said. "I'll see yeh in the hall."

The group of students obeyed, finding an elderly looking witch in brilliant green robes staring down at them.

"She looks like she swallowed a lemon," Emma whispered to Killian.

He giggled, but cut it off when someone delivered a swift elbow to his ribs. He glanced to his other side to find David staring straight ahead, straight at the witch who had fixed their entire group with an impassive stare.

"Welcome to Hogwarts. I am Professor McGonagall." She sounded like someone who had traveled very far and seen very many things. And as old as she was, that was probably true, Killian decided. "The start of term banquet will begin in a few minutes, but first you must all be sorted into your houses. Your house here at Hogwarts will be like your family." She went on to explain a little about the houses—most of which he already knew—and house points. "Now, if you'll follow me please."

With David on his left and Emma on his right, Killian followed the rest of the group into the Great Hall.

"Oh look," Emma breathed, her eyes on the ceiling.

Above them floated hundreds of candles, providing most of the light for the room. And even further above that, the room seemed to open up into the night sky, twinkling stars barely visible beyond the candles’ glow.

"Oh!" Killian whispered. "I read about this. The ceilings enchanted so it always shows what the sky looks like outside."

If possible, Emma's eyes got even wider. “It looks like there’s nothing there at all.”

When they reached the end of the long tables, Professor McGonagall swept her arm across the front of the room. The children lined up in front of the dais, staring up at all the teachers sitting at the head table. Killian recognized Hagrid samong the teachers. There was a witch with a tall, pointed hat. Another with large glasses and hair nearly as bushy as Hagrid's. A skinny wizard, with a turban and the face of a weasel was hunched over his plate. And a sallow-skinned man with greasy hair surveyed the students dispassionately until his dark eyes came to Killian's group. Sharp and glistening, his eyes narrowed and Killian very much wanted to hide until he realized that the teacher wasn't staring at him, but at Emma. She failed to notice.

"Is that Mr. Dumbledore?" she whispered, leaning close to Killian.

He glanced at the wizard she indicated, sitting smack in the middle of the table wearing dark robes that only highlighted the whiteness of his hair and beard. Killian nodded.

Professor McGonagall cleared her throat, drawing everyone's attention to where she stood now. Next to her, on top of a three-legged stool, sat the oddest hat Killian had ever seen. Once, perhaps, it was a tall, proud witch or wizard's hat, but now it was faded and patchy, with a frayed brim and a crease in the middle so deep it could have been a tear.

Emma's eyes widened. "Are they going to see if we can pull a rabbit out of the hat? Is that how they test us?"

Before Killian could tell her he didn't know, the hat moved.

All the students gasped and the wrinkled, brown thing stretched up a little taller and two of the wrinkles widened into what looked remarkably like eyes.

That big crease opened and the hat began to sing:

 

_Oh, you may not think I'm pretty,_

_But don't judge on what you see,_

_I'll eat myself if you can find_

_A smarter hat than me._

_You can keep your bowlers black,_

_You top hats sleek and tall,_

_For I'm the Hogwarts Sorting Hat_

_And I can cap them all._

_There's nothing hidden in your head_

_The Sorting Hat can't see,_

_So try me on and I will tell you_

_Where you ought to be._

_You might belong in Gryffindor,_

_Where dwell the brave at heart,_

_Their daring, nerve, and chivalry_

_Set Gryffindors apart;_

_You might belong in Hufflepuff,_

_Where they are just and loyal,_

_Those patient Hufflepuffs are true_

_And unafraid of toil;_

_Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw,_

_If you've a ready mind,_

_Where those of wit and learning,_

_Will always find their kind;_

_Or perhaps in Slytherin_

_You'll make your real friends,_

_Those cunning for use any means_

_To achieve their ends._

_So put me on! Don't be afraid!_

_And don't get in a flap!_

_You're in safe hands (though I have none)_

_For I'm a Thinking Cap!_

 

David sighed. "You just have to try on the hat. I'm going to kill Happy, he told me it was painful."

Professor McGonagall held out a long scroll, tilting her head to peer over her spectacles at the students.

"When I call out your name, come forward to be sorted."

She called out several names and two Hufflepuffs and a Ravenclaw joined their new housemates at the longtables. Then it was Mary Margaret's turn. She bounced up the steps, a bright smile on her face as she picked up the hat and put it on.

Almost immediately the hat cried, "Gryffindor!"

Somewhere in the crowd, someone scoffed. It sounded a lot like Mary Margaret's unpleasant cousin.

More students went up. Slytherin got its first student. A pair of twins named Cassidy—a boy and a girl—joined Gryffindor. There were more Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws.

And then Professor McGonagall called out, "Jones, Killian!"

A hush fell over the entire room. He felt all of the teachers’ eyes on him as he walked up the three steps, breathing a sigh of relief when he didn't trip. No one said anything, but their thoughts were loud and clear. _There’s that poor Jones boy. Shame about his mother. Just think what she must have put him through. He’s lucky he didn’t fair worse._

Killian swallowed as he picked up the hat, lifting his chin as he looked out at the other students. And then they were gone because the big hat blocked out everyone but the front row of first years.

“Oh,” a soft voice murmured in his ear. “Oh, you’re a tough one to place, aren’t you?”

Killian stiffened.

"Quite the conundrum," the hat whispered in his ears. "You've the wit for Ravenclaw. The cunning for Slytherin." The hat hummed, seemingly oblivious to the way Killian's blood turned to ice at those words. "You'd do well in either. But there's more to you than that. You've been through a bit, haven't you? Brave and loyal, too. Stuck by your mother, even when you felt out of our depth." The hat hummed again. "What house? What house?"

An hour ago, he knew that answer to that question. An hour ago, he would have crossed his fingers and thought, _Hufflepuff please_ with all his might. Liam had been in Hufflepuff. That was the proof Killian had needed to know that Hufflepuff was the best house. He had been so sure, until…

He glanced down, catching sight of blonde curls below the hat's brim. He thought of how Emma stepped in, defended him without knowing him, stood up to someone bigger than both of them because she saw a boy in trouble. He didn't know which house was best, he only knew that he wanted to be in whatever house she was in.

"Well, I think it's best I put you in...GRYFFINDOR!" the hat roared.

Killian clapped his hands over his ears, but as the hat was still on his head, that didn't help one jot. He shoved the thing off and hurried down the stairs, relieved to find that Mary Margaret had budged some other girl down the bench to make room for him. She beamed as he slid into his seat.

Soon it was David’s turn. He jumped up from the stool, whooping as he joined Killian and Margaret. His twin mounted the steps with flaming ears and dirty looks at the Gryffindor table. David cried out in dismay when the hat place his brother in Slytherin. James didn’t spare him a second glance as he took his place at the green clad table.

Killian picked at his ratty sweater as he waited for Emma to take her turn with the hat. The tables began to fill up, each house gaining students on a more or less equal measure.

"Not surprised about that one," Mary Margaret said when her cousin took her place at the Slytherin table with her two friends.

And finally it was Emma's turn.

If the room fell silent when Killian's name was called, it was completely the opposite with Emma.

"Swan," people whispered.

"The Emma Swan?"

"Look, look, the scar...It is her!"

She looked a little green as she sat perfectly still on the stool. The hat fell over her eyes as it had with nearly everyone else. Killian's stomach turned queasy as they waited. One minute. Two.

"GRYFFINDOR!" The word echoed through the room, cutting straight through all the whispers.

The entire Gryffindor table surged to its feet as Emma popped the hat off and practically ran to join Killian, David, and Mary Margaret, a bright smile stretched across her face. She hugged each of them, before sliding in with the others.

The hall fell silent again. Professor Dumbledore stood at the head table, his hands raised.

"Welcome to Hogwarts," he said. "Before we begin, I would like to say a few words. And they are: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak! Enjoy your dinner." With a flourish he sat back down.

Emma leaned in, her eyes on David. "Is he a bit mad?"

An older blonde boy with a striking resemblance to David spoke up. "Mad? Course he is, all the best geniuses are. In't that right, Leroy?" He elbowed the boy next to him with a conspiratorial grin.

“Completely off his rocker,” Leroy said, a little too loudly.

Killian winced, expecting to see nasty looks from the students around them, but everyone seemed to pay little heed to the loud boy’s words.

The conversation cut off as all of the empty dishes at the center of the table filled with food:  roast beef, roast chicken, pork chops and lamb chops, fries, Yorkshire pudding, peas, carrots, gravy, ketchup, and peppermint humbugs. Killian wondered at that last one. He glanced up and down the table, from the first years, still staring at the food, to the older students, who dug into the dishes with relish. Across the table from him, Emma met his gaze with wide eyes, her mouth slightly agape and he knew he wasn’t the only one that had never seen this much food.

Having her here made him feel less alone.

Trading conspiratorial glances, they both reached to fill their plates at the same time.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you, thank you, thank you to everyone who has been following this story so far. I'm so excited to finally be sharing it with you. And this is the chapter that started it all! Anyone who knows me knows I'm very firmly set on my Killian is a Dark Hufflepuff theory (aka a HUfflepuff pushed past their limit), but of course, once I thought of that I came up with the scene of him deciding, "I want to be in HER house". And so we have, beautiful, loyal, Baby!Killian following Emma Swan as we all know he always will.
> 
> A note about next week's chapter: I do not know if I'm going to be able to get it up on Sunday. I will do my very, VERY best but unfortunately there is no scheduler on my site. I will, however, have it scheduled to go up on tumblr Sunday morning. If you want to look for it there, search "thegladelf" and you'll find me. Again, I will try, but I'll be out of town, so I don't know how much access I'll have to my computer.


	3. Cauldrons & Corridors

"I still can't believe that ghosts don't get to eat anything," David said as Nearly Headless Nick floated by during breakfast. "That sounds awful."

"If you ask me," Mary Margaret replied under her breath, "them floating around while we're trying to eat is awful."

"At least Peeves isn't here. Yet,” David said, heaping hot sauce onto his eggs.

The other three nodded solemnly, though Killian couldn’t tell if the disgusted look on Mary Margaret’s face was due to Peeves or the state of David’s breakfast.

They had been at Hogwarts for a week and today was the first that all four of them got down to breakfast without getting lost. Hogwarts had one hundred and forty-two staircases—Killian read that in Hogwarts, A History, he wasn’t crazy enough to count all those staircases—that were always changing and doors that didn't open unless you asked the right way. As far as Killian could tell, everything moved around and you could leave a class to find yourself in a completely different hallway than when you entered.

The classes weren't too bad, though History of Magic was as boring as could be, especially since Professor Binns taught word for word from the same copy of Hogwarts, A History as Liam—and now Killian—owned. Killian had a feeling that the Professor Binns being a ghost had a lot to do with that—that and the fact that history probably didn’t change all that much.

His lack of magical experience hadn’t turned out to be much of a problem. Many of his classmates, including Emma, came from Muggle families and knew even less than he did. No one mocked him for not knowing any of the spells normal wizard children learned growing up. Well, no one that mattered.

A white feather drifted down to rest in Killian's empty bowl and he looked up in time to see Hedwig spiraling down, a note in her claws. The three of them turned to Emma, who shrugged and took the note as it drifted down.

Killian looked away as she opened it. "What have we got today?"

"Potions with Slytherin," Mary Margaret answered with a sigh and glance at the table behind her. "Which means a whole class dealing with Regina..."

"I heard Snape always favors the Slytherins," David said, his mouth full of scrambled eggs. "I guess we'll see."

"He doesn't like me, that's for certain. He glared at me all through the start-of-term banquet." Emma held up the note in her hand. "Anybody got a quill?"

David did and Emma scratched a quick answer to whoever had sent her the note and gave it to Hedwig. "At least I'll have that to look forward to," she added as they left the banquet hall, their school books heavy in their arms.

"What to look forward to?" Killian asked.

"Tea with Hagrid." Her eyes lit up. "Oh, do you want to come? I'm sure he wouldn't mind if the three of you joined in."

They all agreed quickly.

The Potions classroom was down in the dungeons, the light filtering through high windows desperate for two or three good washings. They filed in with the rest of the students, Mary Margaret and Emma sitting at one desk and Killian and David sitting right across the aisle from them. The stools they sat on were so high, Killian’s feet dangled a good foot off the ground. He tried not to fidget. Noting that several other students had pulled their wands from their bags, Killian did the same and the rest of his friends followed suit.

"Put those away," a dour voice said. "There will be none of that foolish wand waving in here."

Every head turned as Professor Snape paraded into the classroom, his black robes billowing around him. He mounted the dais in the front of the classroom, the light behind him making him look like a great, black bird. With a flick of his wrist, he unrolled a scroll and, as many of the professors in Killian's other classes had done, he began to call roll. He paused when he came to Emma's namr, his eyes flicking up dispassionately, as though he didn't know exactly where she sat.

"Ah, yes, Emma Swan. Our new… celebrity." He sounded like he had a cold as he spoke.

Regina and her friends sniggered as he returned to calling roll.

At last, Professor Snape finished with roll—Killian felt like it had taken hours, but a look at the hourglass showed barely any sand in the bottom half—and he turned those black eyes on the class. Even the Slytherins had a hard time meeting his bleak gaze. He crossed his arms across his chest.

"You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potion making," Snape said. He spoke softly, but Killian hadn't seen a class paying so much attention since the cat on Professor McGonagall’s desk turned into the professor herself. It was easy to hear him over the utter silence. "I don't expect you will understand the beauty of a softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses. I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even stopper death..." His voice faded on that last syllable. He glared right at Emma. "Then again, perhaps some of you have come so certain in your own abilities, that you do not feel the need to pay attention."

Emma put her quill down, smoothing a hand over the unmarked portion of her notebook as she gave Snape her full attention.

"Miss Swan," Snape said. "What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"

The combination sounded familiar to Killian.

Emma swallowed. "I don't know, sir.”

Immediately, Mary Margaret's hand shot into the air.

Snape gave Emma a sneering smile. "Fame isn't everything, now, is it?" He dismissed Mary Margaret. "Let's try again. Where might you look if I asked you for a bezoar, Miss Swan?"

Again, Emma shook her head. Mary Margaret reached up so high, she tottered in her seat.

"I don't know, sir."

"Couldn't be bothered to open a book before coming?"

Killian felt that was unfair. He had read all of his books once through, but he found little of the information from One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi stuck with him. There was just so much to read and the print was so tiny he had no idea how they would get through it all in a single school year.

"What is the difference, Miss Swan, between monkshood and wolfsbane?"

Mary Margaret actually left her seat, standing all the way up with her hand in the air. Killian wished he was sitting next to Emma. That was one of the sections he found fascinating, so he read it thoroughly—truly who wouldn’t find a section to do with werewolves fascinating. He tried to catch Emma’s eyes, though he didn’t know how to communicate that they were the same plant with Snape staring her down.

Emma looked at her hands. "I don't know. But maybe Mary Margaret could answer you? She seems to know."

"Sit down, Miss Blanchard," Snape said with a sneer.

He lectured them, going over the answers Emma had been unable to give as she sat sullenly, her head bowed. She rubbed at her cheeks when Snape snapped at them to take notes, and scribbled quickly in her notebook without looking at anyone. Killian wished he could reach across the aisle and hug her, but knew that would only get them in more trouble.

Snape spoke harsh words to everyone as they paired up and began to weigh dried nettles and crush snake fangs. No one did anything to the teacher's satisfaction—except Regina, of course. Killian thought she seemed like exactly the kind of student the sour, old teacher would get along with.

Killian and David did their best to keep their heads down as they worked on the spell in the book.

"Killian," David hissed, elbowing him in the side.

Killian glanced up from the porcupine quills he was chopping very carefully.

"It says to rotate counter clockwise." His friend held up a steaming beaker. "Do you think it means just the beaker or..."

He blinked at David, completely at a loss. "Uh...Better to be safe?"

Searching the room first to make sure that Snape was occupied elsewhere—he was practically chopping Regina's quills for her—Killian and David did one full turn counter clockwise.

A giggle came from across the aisle.

They found Emma smiling at them, her embarrassment from earlier long gone. "What are you two doing?"

"It said to rotate counter clockwise," David said defensively.

"It didn’t mean you." She pointed at their book and sure enough there was a tiny diagram of a beaker and an arrow indicating the desired motion.

Killian turned red all the way to the tips of his ears, noticing a few of the nearby students hiding smiles.

Behind them, someone cried out and the smell of burning metal filled the room. One of Killian and David’s roommates, a freckled boy name Archie Hopper, had managed to melt his cauldron and lay on the floor, moaning in pain as angry boils erupted on his arms and legs. Snape performed a quick once over and dispatched him to the hospital wing before rounding on Emma, who sat at the desk in front of Archie’s.

"Why didn't you tell him to wait to add the quills, Miss Swan? Wanted to make yourself look good when he got it wrong? That's two points from Gryffindor today."

Emma opened her mouth to argue.

"Shall I make it three?"

Killian could have been wrong, but it almost sounded as though Snape was daring her.

"No, sir."

They left Snape's class with low spirits, but, as Mary Margaret reminded them, they had tea at Hagrid's to look forward to.

# # #

Hagrid lived on the edge of the Forbidden Forest, in a little one room hut that reminded Killian of the small apartment he once shared with his mother and, over the summer, his brother.

Emma's knock was met with several barks loud enough to shake the door.

Hagrid got the door open after a great deal of yelling at the dog, whose name seemed to be Fang, and the four children entered.

Even if it was only one room, the hut was rather large with everything sized to accommodate someone of Hagrid's stature. The big man ducked under one of the pheasants hanging from the ceiling, checking on the copper kettle boiling over the fire.

"Make yerselves at home," Hagrid said as the dog set about licking David's ears. The enormous boarhound barely had to lift his nose.

Emma handled introductions.

"Another Nolan, eh?" Hagrid said, narrowing his eyes at David. "You brother and that Jordan boy cause me no end of grief trying to get into the Forest." He pulled out a plate of rock cakes and put it next to a flowered teapot. "And a Jones, too. Knew yer brother, I did. He's a decent sort. Glad to see you haven't let what happened keep yeh from coming."

Killian ducked his head and reached for a rock cake, which turned out to resemble a rock more than a cake when he tried to take a bite. He gulped a mouthful of scalding tea to help wash it down.

Hagrid talked on, oblivious to his guests tucking rock cakes into their pockets half eaten and they passed a pleasant hour in that cabin. Pleasant enough that Killian determined to visit Hagrid often, even if it meant pretending to like the rock cakes.

Emma turned uncharacteristically quiet after a while and it seemed to do with Hagrid brushing off her questions about Snape until she suddenly burst out with, "Hagrid, the break in at Gringott's happened on my birthday! Do think it happened while we were there?"

In her hands, she held an edition of the Daily Prophet.

Hagrid denied it. Horribly. His eyes flitted around the cabin as he spluttered and Killian was sure the big man went red, though it was hard to tell behind all that hair.

The subject changed, but as soon as they were away from the hut, Emma turned on the other three.

“Listen,” she said, eyes bright in the afternoon sunshine. “I was there right before it happened. I know it!”

“Are you sure?” Mary Margaret asked.

“Yes! The article said the vault had been emptied earlier that day,” Emma replied. “And when we were at Gringotts, Hagrid got something from one of the vaults—it was completely empty except for whatever Hagrid took.”

“Maybe it was Hagrid’s vault,” Killian suggested, but he couldn’t imagine Hagrid had much to keep in a bank vault.

“No, he said it was for Dumbledore. Whatever it was he brought it here to Hogwarts.”

Mary Margaret shrugged. “Whatever it is, it’s none of our business.”

# # #

Quidditch was the one thing Killian had known he would look forward to at Hogwarts. Liam was obsessed with the sport, regaling Killian with all kinds of tales about being on the Quidditch team. Though he wasn't certain he'd be good enough to make the team—Liam hadn't made it until his last year—Killian still looked forward to flying lessons. So did David.

Emma, however, wasn't so sure.

"Oh come on, now," David said as they walked to their first lesson with Madam Blue. "I bet half the stuff Regina says about being good at Quidditch is a load of rubbish. You'll be fine."

Madam Blue was a short, compact woman, not much taller than the tallest first year. She wore a pair of goggles that were nearly lost in a mass of brown curly hair and voluminous blue flying robes with stripes of bronze down the side. She had the two houses—they were paired with Slytherin yet again—line up, ten students and brooms to a line. The brooms were rather useless looking things, all dry and brown and more likely to leave a mess than clean one up. But Liam swore up and down that it was the rider, not the broom, that made a good flyer.

"Right hands out over your brooms!" Madam Blue called. The class obeyed. "Now say, 'Up!'"

"UP!"

Killian’s broom responded by rolling over. From the sound of the other students around him, he wasn't the only one who hadn't succeeded on the first try. David and Mary Margaret continued to chant at their brooms, but Emma’s shot right into her hand. She stared at as though it had sprouted eyeballs.

He tried again and this time his broom responded. So did David's.

Mary Margaret's broom didn't budge an inch until she nearly shouted. If anything, her success turned her face a shade greener than a moment before.

Madam Blue instructed them to mount and Killian did exactly as Liam had showed him on the worn, yellow broom from their kitchen cupboard.

"Emma," he hissed when he noticed her grip. "Move your right hand up a bit. Like this."

Emma studied his grip on the broom for a moment before adjusting hers. By the time Killian turned to David and Mary Margaret to check on them, Madam Blue was gently breaking Mary Margaret's white-knuckled grip and adjusting her hold.

"Alright now, I'm going to blow my whistle and when I do I want all of you to kick off the ground hard." Madam Blue brandished said whistle about her head, the bronze tube glinting against the sky. "Rise a few feet off the ground and then lean forward to come back down. Simple as that. On my whistle. Three...Two..."

Beside him, Mary Margaret bounded suddenly off the ground, her robes billowing.

Madam Blue froze, the whistle a hair's breadth from her lips. "Not yet, child. Come back down."

Mary Margaret floated at least twelve feet above them now and was still rising. She whimpered, crouching low over her broom. It tilted forward, but she held it now with her arms instead of her hands and she began to slide toward the ground.

"Pull up!" Madam Blue shouted, but it was too late.

Twenty feet in the air, Mary Margaret's broom dumped her and she fell faster than a rock. She landed with a crunch that turned Killian's stomach. Robes flapping like the wings of a downed bird, Madam Blue shoved through the class and leaned over Mary Margaret.

She tsked. "Broken wrist. It's alright, child, we'll get that taken care of. Come now." She helped Mary Margaret to her feet, her eyes sweeping the class. "The rest of you stay on the ground. If I see so much as a twig in the air, there will be consequences." Arms around Mary Margaret, she bustled off, tutting encouragement the entire time.

"And there goes the family disappointment," Regina said, sounding tired.

"Shut up, Regina," David said.

"Oooh," Maleficent crooned. "Somebody's got a crush, have they?"

Regina shrugged. "Sounds like something a Nolan would do. She’s practically a Muggle and we know how much your family loves them." She tossed something up in the air. Sunlight flashed against the orb as it fell back into her hand. "Dunno why our Gran even bothers with her.”

Killian recognized Mary Margaret's Remembrall. It arrived only this morning when the owl’s delivered the mail. Mary Margaret had laughed at the small package, remarking that her gran needed the little orb more than she did. She tucked it into her pocket anyways.

"Hey. That's not yours." He made a grab for it, but Regina danced out of his reach, the glass ball held high above her head.

"Give it back." Emma appeared at his side, hands on her hips.

"Or what?"

"Or I'll make you."

Regina's eyes widened, her mouth pressed into a barely contained smile. "You can try, Swan, if you can catch me!" And she hopped onto her broom, zipping up into the air and hovering twenty feet above the ground. She leaned back nonchalantly, her eyes boring into Emma’s as she played with the Remembrall. Toss and catch. Toss and catch. The cat-like grin never left her face.

Fury flashing in her eyes, Emma snatched up her broom, hopping on like she rode brooms every day.

Killian lunged for her.  “No, Emma, you'll get in trouble."

"Nothing I haven't handled before," she replied, yanking her arm away. She kicked off the ground, shooting up to Regina's height.

Regina leaned close to her broom as she sped away, raven hair streaming behind her. "Come and get it!"

Killian's heart rose into his throat as Emma took off after her. She wobbled on her broom for a bit, losing quite a bit of ground to Regina before she righted herself. Straight and true, she gave chase. Regina's laughter cut off at a glance behind her and she dove, changing her flight path. Emma took the corner like she'd been born in the air.

"Give it back," she bellowed so loudly those on the ground had no issue making out her words.

Regina lifted the Remembrall  above her head. “If you can catch it, you can have it!”

And then she chucked the ball high into the air.

Killian gasped. No one could catch that, it would be shards of glass in the grass in moments.

Emma sped toward the main hall with her face screwed up in concentration. Killian shielded his eyes, trying to make out the point she followed. He saw it at last, the sun catching on its surface as it reached the top of its arc and plummeted straight toward the castle wall.

Emma, Killian realized, was also very much in danger of smashing against the castle wall.

"Look out!" he shouted.

Emma ignored him, or didn't hear him, her speed increasing as she neared the tower.

He watched, both hands pressed tight over his mouth as Emma rocketed toward solid stone. At the last minute, when it seemed she would wind up a bloody smear, she dove, hand outstretched. He breathed a sigh of relief when she pulled up, fist raised high in the air and the Remembrall glinting between her fingers.

Even the Slytherins—except for Regina, Maleficent, and Ursula—cheered as Emma touched back down on the ground. The Gryffindors rushed her, enveloping Emma in a crowd of back pats and excited chatter. She flashed a bright smile all around, before zeroing in on Killian.

"Did you doubt me, Jones?" she asked, cocking her head to the side.

"Last time I do that," Killian replied, shaking his head.

"EMMA SWAN!"

Every smile dropped at once.

Professor McGonagall robes looked like jeweled wings as she bore down on the group, one hand keeping her hat in place. Emma went rigid, her face making it clear that she wished to be anywhere but here. The professor skidded to a stop in front of her, gaping at Emma.

"Never—in all my years at Hogwarts—" Professor McGonagall's stopped, her mouth opening without sound for a moment. "And what if you had broken your neck, Miss Swan? How dare—"

"It wasn't her fault—"

Professor McGonagall's glare cut Killian off mid-sentence. "That's enough, Mr. Jones—"

"But Regina—"

"I said quiet, Mr. Nolan. Miss Swan, follow me. Now."

Emma swallowed, ducking her head as she handed her broom to David and trudged off behind Professor McGonagall.

Killian spent the rest of the afternoon trying, and failing, not to wonder if that was the last time he would ever see Emma. McGonagall was the head of their house, she probably had the clout to get Emma expelled. Much to the amusement of Regina and her friends, Killian couldn’t concentrate for the rest of the lesson. He barely stayed on his broom.

His mind wandered on the way to dinner and he wasn't sure how he could find the stomach to eat. He was working up the will to eat his dinner when he heard the rush of footsteps and looked up just in time to see Emma barreling down the row toward them. She skidded to stop in front of them, bumping into another first year girl as she slid in across from Killian and David.

"You'll never guess what just happened!" In a rushed whisper, she told them that Professor McGonagall introduced her to someone name Oliver Wood. "When she asked to borrow 'Wood', I thought I was in for a caning for sure."

"Wood's captain of the Gryffindor team," David hissed.

Emma rolled her eyes. “I know. I’m on the team. Seeker."

The boys gasped.

"Though, I may still be in for a caning if she thinks I'm slacking."

David blinked at her stupidly. "You're serious? Seeker? But first years never—you have to be the youngest house player in...

"A century," Emma said, snagging a piece of pie and digging her fork into it. "Wood mentioned it at least a dozen times." She shoved a good bite into her mouth, brandishing her fork at both of them in turn. "You can't tell anyone. Wood says it’s supposed to be a secret."

"Gryffindor team knows by now, at least," David said, jerking his chin at something behind Emma.

Happy Nolan wove through the tables, grinning broadly at Emma. His friend Leroy Jordan followed behind him, looking like a thundercloud chasing a sunbeam. They were the oddest pair Killian had ever seen. It wasn’t that Leroy was always grumpy, but he did have a knack for finding things to complain about. At the top of his lungs, more often than not.

"Well done," Happy whispered when he made it over. "Wood told us.”

Leroy harrumphed. “Jury’s still out on you, kid, but you’ll make my job more interesting, at least.”

“Ignore my pessimistic mate,” Happy said. He clapped Emma on the shoulder, beaming. “If you’re half as good as Wood says, we’re a cinch for the Quidditch Cup. We haven't won since Tom left, but this year's team will be brilliant." He winked at Emma as he ducked away.

"Enjoying your last meal, Swan?"

David and Killian were suddenly pushed apart as Regina leaned between them, her eyes boring into Emma. She had the smile of an owl that had caught the rat. Behind her, Maleficent and Ursula giggled like idiots.

"What?" Emma said, dismissing Regina with a flick of her fork. "Feeling brave now that we're on the ground with your friends to back you up?"

Regina bristled. "No. I'll take you any time. On my own." She took a breath and turned her attention to her nails. "Tonight, if you want. Wands only, of course. What's the matter, Swan, never heard of a wizard's duel before?"

"Course she has," David said. "I'll be her second. Who’s yours?"

“David—” Killian hissed.

Regina glanced over shoulder. "Mal. We'll see you tonight. Midnight. Trophy room."

Her hair swished as she spun on her heel and she marched to an empty spot at the Slytherin table, Maleficent and Ursula hot on her heels.

“What just happened?” Emma asked as soon as Regina was out of earshot.

Ignoring her, Killian smacked David's arm. “What the hell were you thinking? Emma can’t get caught sneaking around after curfew. She was almost expelled this afternoon.”

“But she wasn’t,” David shot at him. Turning his back on Killian, David explained, “Regina challenged you to a wizard’s duel, so you’re meeting her in the trophy room at midnight to see who can hex the other first.”

“And what’s a second.”

David shrugged. “Just a formality. People used to die in the old days. It was the second’s job to carry on if the first person died.”

“Oh, okay.” Emma went back to eating her pie.

“Swan, you can’t go,” Killian said. “Two bad marks in one day will get you expelled for sure.”

“Relax, Killian,” she said, flicking her hair over her shoulder and grinning at him. “I’m used to sneaking around.”

“And what spells were you planning to use?” Killian leaned forward, remembering just in time not to put his elbow in the gravy bowl. “We’ve barely been at school three weeks. We haven’t learned any dueling spells.”

“Bet you Regina knows plenty,” David muttered. “Her mum has probably been teaching her how to hex people since she was a toddler.”

Emma shrugged. “I can always just punch her again.”

For the rest of the evening, she and David pointedly ignored Killian as they whispered conspiratorially. Though, they also didn’t bother to hide their plans from him. Every time Killian tried to protest, they talked right over him. They took off as soon as dinner was over, leaving Killian to wait for Mary Margaret to return from the infirmary and talk some sense into them. The night stretched on though and Killian finally accepted that she was spending the night in the infirmary. It appeared he was the sole voice of reason for their little group.

Arthur passed by as they headed for bed and Killian considered telling him Emma and David’s plans. They would get in trouble for sure, but if it was before they actually broke any rules maybe they wouldn’t get into too much trouble. He bit his tongue though when he thought of Emma and David’s reaction.

They would never forgive him.

“You’re not still chuffed about tonight are you?” David hissed as they changed into their pajamas.

Killian ignored him.

“Fine, have it your way.”

 Killian tried to sleep. It wasn't any of his business, after all, if Emma and David wanted to get a detention—or worse. He screwed his eyes up tight and did his best to ignore David. Except David flopped from side to side every five minutes, making his bed creak. And sighed. And breathed.

And Killian finally gave up on sleeping.

At last, David threw back his covers with a muffled thump.

Killian did the same. The floor bit at his bare feet, but he didn’t have the time to grab a pair of socks.

David threw an odd look at him as he followed, belting his robe tight.

"What are you doing?"

Killian glowered, schlumping silently down the stairs behind David.

Emma paced in the common room, wand pointing at odd angles as she twisted her hands. For a moment, Killian hoped to finally talk her out of this, but she ceased fidgeting when she saw David. She smiled.

"I was starting to think you'd fallen asleep," she said.

"Nah."

Her eyes flicked to Killian and her mouth flattened. "Come to try talking me out of it again?"

"Would it do any good?"

"No."

"Then no." Killian squared his shoulders. "I’m coming with you."

Emma blinked, then shrugged. "Alright."

Even on the best day, Hogwarts was nearly impossible to navigate. And now, in the dark, it was even more foreboding. Their light-tipped wands caught fringes of movement as the paintings were disturbed and shone strangely on suits of armor, animating their shadows. More than once the trio stifled a scream.

“What was that?” Emma hissed for the third time.

“What was what?” David asked, waving his wand wildly at the darkness.

“Shhh.” Emma held her finger to her lips, a look of concentration on her face.

Killian tensed, straining to hear whatever Emma had heard. The darkness seemed to press around them and hair on the back of his neck stood up. There were all manner of alcoves in this hallway where ghosts, or worse teachers, could hide. He wanted to be back in his room, in his bed, rather than in the dark and about to be attacked by…

A soft snore broke the silence.

“That sounds like…” Emma trailed off as she charged ahead of the boys, poking her wand into an alcove on the left. “Mary Margaret?”

“Emma?”

David and Killian crowded in behind Emma and discovered that the sleepy voice did indeed belong to Mary Margaret. She was curled up in the alcove, her robe draped over her like a blanket, her bookbag serving as a pillow. She held a hand in front of her eyes, blinking against the light of all three wands.

Emma put a hand out, lowering David’s wand as she did the same with her own. Killian didn’t need any prompting, his was already by his side.

"Mary Margaret?" Emma whispered. "What are you doing out here? I thought Madam Pomfrey was keeping you overnight."

Mary Margaret rubbed at her eyes with a yawn. "Not for a broken arm. She fixed me up hours ago, but she gave me something for the pain first and it muddled my mind. I wandered for hours trying to find Gryffindor before I gave up."

Emma looked first to David, then to Killian. When neither of them volunteered to walk Mary Margaret back to their dormitory, she held out her hand.

"Well, we can't leave you here. Come on."

Sleepily, she shuffled in behind their group.

After finding Mary Margaret, they made it to the third floor without incident, but Killian's relief was short-lived. As Emma placed her hand on the door to the trophy room, there came a heavy tread that sent chills down his spine. All four children froze.

"Sniff around, my sweet, they might be lurking in a corner," the dry rasping voice muttered, carrying down the hallway.

A meow answered.

"Filch and Mrs. Norris," David hissed.

As one, the four sprinted away from the caretaker’s voice. Mary Margaret's robes whipped around the corner just as light flooded the hallway, barely missing them. They ran as fast as they dared down a hall filled with suits of armor and Mary Margaret yelped, stumbling into one of them and taking Killian with her. Emma and David spun, eyes wide. Neither hesitated, jumping forward, shoving arms and legs of armor away, grabbing Killian and Mary Margaret and hauling them to their feet. Behind them, they heard a gleeful shout from Filch and his shuffling steps increased their pace.

The children fled down the hall, stealth abandoned.

"There," Emma hissed, pointing to a tapestry billowing in a draft.

The ducked behind it and discovered a secret passageway. They burst through the other side gasping, four sets of eyes searching to see where they were.

"That's... the... Charms... classroom," Mary Margaret gasped pointing.

"We're miles from the trophy room then," Emma said, pushing her hair back from her face. "We've lost him."

Still bent double as he gasped for breath, David nodded. A mad grin spread over his face. "That was brilliant."

"Brilliant?" Killian hissed. He cuffed David on the back of his head, like Liam might if he were here. "I told you. I told you, I told you, I told you!"

"Oh, get off it." David shoved Killian away.

"Regina tricked you." Killian's voice gained an eerie quality in the empty hallway. "She set you up and then she tipped off Filch and you wankers walked right into it." He felt better with the steam blown out. Like a boil that had been finally lanced. He shook his head. "Can we please not do this again?"

"Yes, please," Mary Margaret said, crossing her arms and glaring at David and Emma in turn. "Winning the House Cup is already hard enough without you lot causing trouble."

"Hey!" Killian protested softly.

David returned Mary Margaret's glare with equal venom. "You'd still be curled up in a stony alcove if it weren't for us."

"I would have—"

"Let's just get back to our rooms," Emma said, stepping between the pair.

"Shh," Killian hissed.

The doorknob across the hall rattled a moment and then a short, squat, mostly transparent man floated right through the door. Killian's stomach sank to his toes. The others donned expressions that indicated they experienced a similar sensation. The ghost caught sight of them immediately. He clapped his pudgy hands together.

"Oh ho!" he squealed in delight. "What have we here?"

"Shhhhh, Peeves," Emma whispered. "Please."

He watched them with gleaming eyes. "Ickle Firsties out at midnight. Naughty, naughty, you'll get caughty!"

"Not if you don't snitch. Please Peeves, we'll get thrown out."

Peeves threw his head back and cackled. "Learn your lesson you would, wouldn’t you?"

"Peeves," Emma whined.

David had had enough, it seemed, for he lunged forward. "Now listen you—"

"No, Dave—" Killian lunged after him, Mary Margaret at his side, trying to keep David from swinging at the ghost. They were too late.

The minute David's hand passed through Peeves, the ghost let out a wail. "Students in the Charms corridor! Students out of bed!"

They had no time to think. Weaving around Peeves, the four of them pelted down the corridor, slamming straight into the door at the end.

"We're done for," David said. "Filch'll kill us before anyone else gets the chance to punish us."

Behind them, footsteps thudded against the floor so fast Killian knew Filch would be on them in minutes.

Mary Margaret snatched David's wand from his hand and tapped the lock. "Alohomora."

To Killian's surprise the lock clicked and the door opened when she shoved. Heart pounding, Killian crowded in with the others, helping them shut it, and pressed his ear to the door.

"Which way, Peeves? Where did they go?" Filch demanded.

"Say 'please'," the ghost chortled.

They were done for. Liam's disappointed face flashed across Killian's vision as they listened to Filch arguing with Peeves.

“Shan’t say nothing if you don’t say please,” Peeves said with malicious glee.

“All right.” Filch paused. He sounded like he might be choking and Killian wondered if somehow the poltergeist was strangling him, but finally a word stuttered out, “Please.”

“NOTHING!” Peeves cackled so loudly they all jerked back from the door.

"He still thinks the door is locked," Emma said as Filch started yelling, his voice fading down the hallway. "Oh, what is it?" She nearly punched Killian in the nose as she yanked her arm away from Mary Margaret. "What?"

Killian froze. Behind him, he heard a low, deep rumble. Swallowing, he turned along with Emma and David to Mary Margaret, who was pointing a trembling finger at a massive dog.

Not a dog.

A monster. Its bulk filled the whole back of the room, ceiling to floor. Three pairs of eyes on three different heads glared at them, all three massive, drooling mouths pulled back in snarls. It tilted one head, three noses snuffling simultaneously.

Emma hauled the door open again. "Everyone out."

No one needed telling twice. They scrambled over each other, practically falling out of the room, heedless of who might be waiting for them outside. Even expulsion was preferable to getting ripped apart by three sharp sets of teeth. Emma slammed the door shut behind them and they ran. All the way to the seventh floor and the portrait of the Fat Lady.

“What are you doing out here?” she asked, brow furrowed as she took in their appearances.

Killian pulled his bathrobe back onto his shoulder, tightening his belt. David was missing one of his slippers.

“Pig snout,” Emma gasped. “Pig snout, pig snout, pig snout.”

At the password, the painting swung open and they practically fell into the common room, a mess of bodies and limbs. Killian got an elbow to the ribs and he stepped on someone's foot—David's if the following yelp could be trusted—as they all rushed for the armchairs. He fell into one, trembling and breathing hard, his heart pounding desperately. He waited for someone to say something, but the only sound in the room was that of four children catching their breaths.

Finally, David said, "Why is that brute on the third floor? Why would you keep a dog like that cooped up?"

"Do you ever use your eyes?" Mary Margaret bit out. Any remaining grogginess from Madam Pomfrey's medications burned away by their headlong rush through the castle.

"Yeah," David retorted. "I used them to see a huge, slobbering monster."

"Well, you didn't use them hard enough," she said, shoving up off the couch. "If you had you might have noticed it was standing on top of a trap door." She stood, shaking out her robes. She glared at all three of them. "I hope you're pleased with yourselves. Now if you'll excuse me I'm going to bed before you get us killed—or worse, expelled."

Mary Margaret spun on her heel and flounced all the way up to the girl's dormitory.

"She needs to get her priorities sorted," David muttered.

Emma waved him off. "She'll be over it in the morning."


	4. The Next Clue

Chapter Four

Mary Margaret was _not_ over it in the morning.

According to Emma—who shared a room with her—Mary Margaret started the cold shoulder treatment the minute her eyes opened. She breezed past them without so much as a hello when she came downstairs that morning and walked on ahead of them to breakfast, choosing instead to sit by herself at the end of the bench. Killian felt it rather unfair that she shut him out, as he agreed that their friends had been a bit reckless. But then, he had gone along willingly. He was simply glad to have survived the encounter. In fact, the entire incident took on a rather hilarious quality in the daylight and he couldn’t begrudge Emma and David their jokes.

Even if he still felt a tad bit bitter, the look of surprise on Regina's face when they entered the Great Hall very much _not_ expelled was almost worth the near-death experience.

"We'll get back at her. Somehow," David whispered around a mouthful of porridge.

Emma nodded, glancing questioningly at Killian.

"Count me in, Swan."

She smiled.

Their—or rather Emma's—opportunity came later that week.

"I think it must be whatever Hagrid took out of the vault," she was saying as the owls flew into the Great Hall. It was a subject she had rehashed many times since That Night.

Killian listened with half an ear. Liam wrote him at least once a week and he had just started looking for one of the Ministry owls when he caught sight of the owl flying in with a long, thin package clutched in its talons. He wasn't the only one. Usually, students were caught up trying to spot familiar owls, hopeful of mail from their parents and siblings, but today everyone's eyes turned to the odd item.

"Killian, are you even—" Emma cut off as he elbowed her and pointed at the owl fluttering its wings as it descended in front of her. Eyes wide, Emma extended her hands, ripping off the note as soon as she had a good grip on it. Covering her smile with her hand, she passed the note to Killian.

The note was written in a fine, looping hand on plain white paper. Only the signature at the bottom identified who had written it. Killian raised both eyebrows at Emma before reading the note again.

_DO NOT OPEN THE PARCEL AT THE TABLE._

_It contains your new Nimbus Two Thousand, but I don't want everybody knowing you've got a broomstick or they'll all want one. Oliver Wood will meet you tonight on the Quidditch field at seven o'clock for your first training session._

_Professor Minerva McGonagall_

"A what?!" David hissed, reading over Killian's shoulder.

Emma jerked her head toward the door, grabbing the parcel. David and Killian nearly tripped over their robes extricating themselves from the table. He knew they were making a scene and this was probably not the subtle retreat Professor McGonagall would prefer, but they only had a little bit before their first class and they all wanted a good look at that broom before then. Killian had only ever seen a Nimbus Two Thousand through the shop window in Diagon Alley.

The three skidding around the first corner and right into Regina, Mal, and Ursula.

Quick as a snake, Regina grabbed Emma's package and gave it two or three experimental squeezes.

"This is a broomstick," she sneered. "Don't you know first years aren't allowed broomsticks, Swan? They'll get you this time."

David sneered right back at her. "That's a Nimbus Two Thousand, Malfoy." His grin widened with her eyes. "What model did you say waited for you back at home? A Comet Two Sixty? That model’s all flash."

"Like you know anything about brooms, Nolan. I bet you have to use homemade brooms—you probably gather your own twigs and everything."

"Is there a problem?"

All of them jumped, surprised by the short, soft-spoken man who stood at Regina's elbow. He was soft-footed apparently, too, for none of them heard him approach. The Charms teacher had given everyone his real name on the first day of class, but Killian couldn’t remember what it was Everyone at Hogwarts call him Doc. The name fit his round spectacles and frazzled white beard.

Regina pointed at the brown paper package. "That's a broomstick, Professor."

"Oh, yes, Minerva told me all about the special circumstances. What model is it, Miss Swan?"

"A Nimbus Two Thousand." Emma pressed her lips tightly together, fighting laughter if the twinkling of her eyes was any proof. "I suppose I should thank you, Regina. I wouldn't have it if it weren't for you."

Regina's face turned an exciting shade of purple and Killian bit his lip to keep from laughing. He tugged on Emma's sleeve and the three Gryffindors said goodbye to Doc and hurried to the tower.

"It's true," Emma whispered, still grinning like a fiend. "If Regina hadn't stolen Mary Margaret's Remembrall, I wouldn't be Seeker."

A scoff echoed from behind them. They all stopped, turning just as Mary Margaret shoved past them.

"I suppose you’re pleased with yourselves," she said. "You get to break another rule and get one up on my cousin at the same time."

"Oh, come off it, Mary Margaret," Emma groaned. "Nothing happened."

"Not for lack of trying," Killian muttered.

David elbowed him in the ribs. "I thought you weren’t speaking to us, Mary Margaret. Maybe we could go back to that?"

Now it was Killian's turn to elbow him.

"It's all right, Mary Margaret," Killian said, even though the petite brunette had resumed climbing the stairs. "McGonagall gave Emma special permission."

"There's no reasoning with her,” David shrugged.

"Well, maybe there would be if you weren't antagonizing her all the time,” Killian snapped.

"Boys," Emma cut in, already several steps ahead of them. "If you want to bicker here, be my guest, but I want a good look at my new broom before class." She climbed the stairs two at a time, the wrapped up broom acting as a balancing pole at times. David and Killian took off after her.

They didn't have much time to admire Emma's new broom before she had to run it up to her room, but she let both of the boys hold it. Killian knew next to nothing about brooms, but David looked ready to cry as he ran his fingers reverently over the handle.

She came back into the common room with a sour face. Apparently, she had run into Mary Margaret.

"Don't worry," David said, slinging an arm around her shoulders, "she can't stay mad forever."

# # #

Halloween rolled around, waking the entire school with the smell of fresh baked pumpkin. Killian could hardly believe it had been two months since the he came to Hogwarts. It felt like the train had arrived only yesterday.

Contrary to David’s original declarations, Mary Margaret was still angry.

She only spoke to them when she had to for class and even then, she was snappish and moody. After three weeks of this attitude, even Killian was having a hard time being sympathetic. Between her absence and Emma continually disappearing for secret Quidditch practices, their little group felt like a piece of Swiss cheese. The Mary Margaret situation aside, though, Emma seemed happier than ever, so he could forgive her continual absence.

Especially if it meant keeping the Quidditch cup out of Slytherin hands.

"I wouldn't trade with David for a closet full of Nimbus Two Thousands," he muttered to Emma in Charms.

Doc had paired them up for lessons today and, to Killian’s utter relief, he had been paired with Emma. David, however, was unlucky enough to end up with Mary Margaret as his partner. Their professor picked up on the four children’s friendship weeks ago, but it was taking longer for him to realize they were on the outs.

"I can't believe she's _still_ mad." Emma glanced over to where David tried ineffectively to levitate a feather. "Don't do that."

Emma slapped Killian's wrist as he prodded his feather. Two tables in front of them Will Scarlet, one of Killian’s roommates, attempted the same thing and set his feather on fire. Killian went back to swishing and flicking with minimal success.

"Wingardium Leviosa!" David shouted, drawing the whole class’ attention.

Mary Margaret tsked. “You’ll never get it going on like that.”

“Well, by all means, Your Highness,” David hissed, throwing in a little mocking bow, “teach me the error of my ways.”

Mary Margaret’s mouth became very small and thin, her eyes flashing. Killian felt certain she would pull an Emma and leave David sprawled out on the floor. Instead, she picked up her wand.

“Oh, he’s going to spend the rest of his life as a toad,” Emma muttered.

Killian leaned over the desk, trying to see better. “Do you think she can do that?”

“Wouldn’t surprise me.”

They both held their breath.

Mary Margaret did not turn David into a toad. With a precise flick, she calmly said, “Wingardium Leviosa.”

The large white feather in front of David lifted gracefully.

Mary Margaret set her wand back down on the desk and turned a cool gaze on David. For a long moment, Killian thought maybe she was Professor McGonagall in disguise.

"Well done, Miss Blanchard," Doc said, clapping. "Look at that, everyone. See. That's exactly how you do it."

David looked like a cauldron about to explode. His face had gone all red and he had his arms crossed like they were the only thing keeping him from splattering all over the classroom. In one jerky motion, he pointed his own wand at Mary Margaret’s feather.

“Wingardium Leviosa,” he hissed.

“You shorten the ‘gar’ too much,” Mary Margaret said, examining her nails. “It’s ‘Win- _gar_ -dium’. And it’s ‘Levi- _o_ -sa’, not ‘Levio- _saaa_ ’.”

Her eyes flicked in Emma and Killian’s direction and they sat back quickly, pretending to be wholly engrossed in their feathers.

“They’re both going to be in foul moods,” Killian grumbled.

“Yes, but at least now we know what we were doing wrong,” Emma whispered back. “Count of three?”

This time, their feathers rose lightly into the air. They grinned.

David stomped over to them at the end of the class.

"You know," he said, pushing through the exodus of students with Emma and Killian in his wake, "I used to wonder how someone so nice could possibly be related to Regina, but I think I'm starting to see the family resemblance."

"Oh," Emma exclaimed as she stumbled into Killian.

Mary Margaret ran past her without even apologizing, her face streaked with tears.

"David, she heard you," Killian said.

"And?" He shrugged. "If she doesn't want to be compared to Regina, she shouldn't act like her."

"We should still apologize," Emma said, nodding at Killian. "After the next class."

"For all the good it will do." David shook his head, but that was all the protest he put up.

Mary Margaret wasn't in the next class. In fact, she wasn't in any of their classes, a fact which clearly bothered Emma. Even David looked a bit flustered. They all knew that Mary Margaret had to be truly upset to skip an entire afternoon’s worth of classes.

As they entered the Great Hall for dinner, Killian overheard Milah Cassidy telling her twin brother that she'd seen Mary Margaret crying in the girl's bathroom.

"I’ll go talk to her," Emma said when he told her and David. "She should be in here with us."

Killian was about to agree with her when their Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, Professor Isaac Heller, rushed into the hall, face as pale as the ghosts floating from table to table. Heedless of the students all around him, he sprinted to the front of the room, stopping right in front of Professor Dumbledore.

"Troll—" he panted, "In the dungeons—Thought you should know..." And he fainted dead away.

The silence that had fallen as everyone watched Professor Heller stumble to the front broke the minute he hit the ground. Everyone talked at once. Boys and girls screamed. Professors bellowed for order, but no one listened until Professor Dumbledore raised his wand and sent purple firecrackers whizzing into the false sky.

"Prefects," he said in a tone that implied that trolls in the dungeon were a common occurrence, "lead your Houses back to the dormitories immediately!"

David's older brother, Arthur, jumped to his feet. "First years this way. Everyone stick together. Keep close behind me and you don't need to worry about that troll. Excuse me, Prefect coming through!"

Gryffindor fell into line behind Artie and the other Prefects, crowding out of the Great Hall with the other students.

They had just cleared the main doors when Emma veered away from the group.

Killian grabbed her arm. "What are you doing?" he hissed.

"Mary Margaret. She doesn't know about the troll."

He let go when she pulled. He watched her retreating back for about two seconds before he squared his shoulders and slipped through the crush after her. If they came upon the troll, two wands were better than one. Or three, he amended as he David appeared at his left.

Footsteps sounded behind them.

"Artie," David whispered, grabbing both their arms and dragging them behind a stone griffin.

But it wasn't Arthur, it was Professor Snape.

"Why isn't Snape down in the dungeon with the other professors?" Emma asked.

Killian and David both shook their heads.

As soon as Snape's footsteps began to fade, they slipped from behind the griffin and hurried along their way.

They smelled the troll before they saw it. The thing reeked like a public toilet and the trash when Killian shirked his chores and Liam's socks when he came home from playing Quidditch with his friends all at the same time. It sounded like a huge, congested pig.

"There,” David said in a shaky voice. He pointed.

The troll was huge. Easily as big as Hagrid with moldy-looking skin and a head too small for its lumpy body. All of its proportions were off, in fact, with too long arms and too short legs. It dragged a wooden club, big enough to be a tree, behind it as it shuffled down the hallway.

The three children cowered in the shadows as it stopped in a doorway, its great snuffling nose working overtime.

Emma stifled a gasp. "That's the girls’ bathroom."

Killian held his breath, hoping the troll would back away from the door and continue down the hall.

It took a step forward and then another step and another and then it disappeared inside the girls’ bathroom.

Killian glanced at Emma with wide eyes.

She swallowed and reached inside her robes for her wand. He and David did the same and the three of them charged down the corridor together. A great crash sounded from inside the bathroom. They burst through the door just as someone screamed.

Mary Margaret cowered at the far end of the bathroom as the troll advanced steadily. Several ruined sinks sat on the ground in its wake. As they watched, it put a hand down on another, clay-colored fingers curling around the bowl. It ripped the sink from the wall like it was ripping petals from a flower.

"We have to distract it!" Emma shouted.

Killian scooped up a broken faucet and hurled it at the troll. "Oi, you big git!"

"Hey, pea-brain," David yelled from its other side, throwing a pipe at it.

The troll rounded on them, regarding the two boys with slightly crossed eyes. As soon as it moved toward them, Emma ducked behind it and seized Mary Margaret's sleeve, trying to pull her toward the door. If they could all get outside and keep it inside, they could lock it in.

Mary Margaret tried to run, but she shook so badly that her feet slipped on the wet floor. Both girls slid into a sodden heap. The troll, however, took no notice of them, focusing his beady, black eyes on Killian.

"Oh, bugger," he muttered.

With one massive step, the troll moved between Killian and the door.

Killian held his wand at the ready, though he didn't know any defensive spells. He didn't even know how to make the end of his wand spark yet. Not on purpose, at least. All he could think was that if the troll didn't kill him, his brother would after McGonagall or whoever sent the owl to inform Liam of numerous broken limbs the troll was about to inflict on him.

Someone yelled. Not a high, fearful yell. An angry battle cry. The troll's head jerked up in surprise and suddenly a pair of arms grasped at its meaty neck and a blonde head peeked up over its shoulder. It bellowed. Emma had jammed her wand halfway up its nose. The troll spun on stumbling feet, twisting and flailing around with the club as it tried to grab Emma. The row of stalls crumpled under one swing.

"Wingardium Leviosa!" David shouted.

The troll watched slack-jawed as its club rose in the air, somersaulted, and came cracking back down on its skull. Emma shouted and ducked, hanging on for dear life as the troll staggered and fell forward. It landed with a great, wet slop.

Emma rolled off the troll, grimacing at the thick, gluey substance on her wand. Nose crinkled, she wiped her wand on the troll's trousers.

David made a gagging sound.

"Are you alright, Mary Margaret?" Emma asked.

Shakily, Mary Margaret stood. Tears streaked her face and her hands wouldn't hold still. With a cry, she flung herself at Emma, burying her face in the other girl's shoulder. Emma froze for a moment before patting Mary Margaret's back. She shot Killian and David a panicked look, as though to say, _What do I do?_ They both shook their heads.

All four of them jumped at the slam of a door and the sound of footsteps pounding down the hallway.

"What on earth happened here?" Professor McGonagall demanded as she burst into the bathroom with Professor Snape and Professor Heller right behind her.

The children looked down at the troll.

Snape bent to examine the troll with disinterest, but Heller turned a spectacular shade of green and collapsed against the wall, hand on his heart.

Killian was worried that Snape might take loads of points from Gryffindor, but one look at McGonagall's face drove all thought of the other two teachers out of his head. Her eyes drilled into each of them in turn and Killian could swear he felt the burn. Her lips pressed together so tightly they turned white. Forget Snape, she was going to drain her own house of every last point. He could see Professor McGonagall escorting all of them to the doors and tossing their trunks out after them.

"What on earth were you thinking?" She spoke short and choppy, each word standing on its own.  "You could have been killed. What are you doing out of your dormitory?"

Snape glared at Emma.

Emma stared at the floor.

David had gone all statue-like and Killian fought back the urge to lower his friend’s wand arm. Not that it would do them any good. They could hardly claim innocence with the evidence strewn all over the third floor girls’ bathroom. Mary Margaret was alive, though. That was worth getting expelled as far as Killian was concerned.

He opened his mouth to admit the truth.

"It's my fault, Professor," came a small voice.

Everyone turned to Mary Margaret, still quivering behind Emma. She took a deep breath and stood a little straighter, loosening her hold on Emma's robes.

"Miss Blanchard. Explain!"

Mary Margaret bowed her head. "I went looking for the troll, Professor. I've read all about them and I thought—I thought I could take it on all by myself."

Killian blinked. Was Mary Margaret lying? To a _teacher_? Emma’s face had gone carefully blank. David gaped openly, his wand dropping so fast, Killian thought his arm had fallen off for a moment.

“I’d be dead now if they hadn’t come to find me,” Mary Margaret continued softly. She looked up at the three other children through her damp bangs. “It would have finished me off in a minute if it weren’t for them. They didn’t have time to fetch a teacher.”

Professor McGonagall harrumphed. She turned that searching look on each of them again. Killian clamped his jaw tightly shut to keep from blurting out the truth.

“Very well,” McGonagall said. “That was very foolish of you, Miss Blanchard. Reckless. Five points from Gryffindor.”

Mary Margaret nodded meekly.

“If you’re not hurt, I want to you go straight to Gryffindor dormitory. Or I’ll be taking another five points from your house.” She waved Mary Margaret out the door, her sleeves swishing. “As for the three of you…” She looked down her long nose at them. “You were extremely lucky. Many experienced wizards have struggled to take down such a beast. You each win five points for Gryffindor.” With the same swishing motion, she dismissed Emma, David, and Killian.

They hurried out of the bathroom, knowing better than to push their luck.

“That was worth more than fifteen points,” David grumbled.

“Ten once she takes off Mary Margaret’s,” Emma said.

David’s face soured for a moment, then he shrugged. “It was good of her to stick up for us. We’d be in loads of trouble if she hadn’t… Course, we did save her.”

“She wouldn’t have needed saving if you hadn’t made her cry,” Killian cut in.

“Can we stop all the fighting?” Emma asked tiredly. “I think we’ve done quite enough of it today.”

The boys sighed, but they dropped the subject.

They reached the portrait of the Fat Lady, speaking the password together.

Killian had never heard so much noise in such a small space. The feast had moved to the common room, and all of Gryffindor milled about the room, plates piled with food in their hands as they laughed and talked. All except Mary Margaret. She stood just inside the door, worrying the sleeve of her robe in her fingers. Her face lit up when the others stepped inside.

“You’re back,” she said. “You didn’t get in too much trouble, did you?”

“Nope.Got ten whole points,” David said as if they hadn’t originally earned fifteen.

Mary Margaret sighed. “Thanks.” She swallowed.

Emma slung an arm around her shoulders. “Any time.”

“Though, it would be nice if you didn’t make a habit of getting attacked by trolls,” Killian said, glaring at Emma. “Some of us have had enough of near death experiences for the year.” He wrinkled his nose a moment later. “That, and they stink. If we _have_ to rescue you again, it’d be nice to have a slightly better smelling opponent.”

They all laughed and that was that. They were all friends again and their little group had no more holes.

# # #

Killian thought the events of Halloween would be forgotten soon, but when Emma wasn't studying or at Quidditch practice, she and David were speculating as to what could be under that trap door.

A week later, things took an even darker turn when Emma flew over to their table in the common room, her eyes wild.

"I take it you didn't get the book back from Snape, then," Killian said. Sensing her nerves over the approaching match, he'd lent her _Quidditch Through the Ages_ , a book he'd checked out of the library when Emma first made the team. Liam had taught him some things about Quidditch, but when she came back from practice spouting a thousand different terms he had never heard of, Killian realized he needed to know more than what a Quaffle and a Bludger were if he wanted to discuss practice intelligently with her.

"No," Emma said, plopping into the seat next to him. "But get this. When I got to Snape's office, Filch was with him."

"No surprise there," David muttered. "They probably get together every Friday to bemoan their inability to use thumb screws on students."

"Snape was hurt," Emma hissed.

She shoved her hair away from her face, leaning over the table and swiping aside half of Killian's remaining wizard chess pieces. Killian didn't mind much, he was losing anyways.

"We know he was hurt," Killian said. "He was limping when he confiscated my book."

"Yes, because he'd been _bitten_."

Killian’s heart skipped a beat. David, who was chasing after chess pieces under the table, sat up so quickly he bumped his head.

Mary Margaret looked up from the essay she was writing. "Emma, you can't honestly think..."

"He was going on about how he couldn't keep track of three heads at once," Emma replied. "Sound like anything we've seen recently."

Mary Margaret sighed. "Honestly, Emma. Snape is..." She paused, turning at little green at the very thought of their potions teacher. It said something awful about a teacher if they made even Mary Margaret anxious. "Well, he's a—a bully, I admit, but he wouldn't try to steal something Dumbledore wanted kept safe."

"I know you think all teachers are saints..." David said, still rubbing the back of his head.

"I don't think that, David, not about Snape...."

"But I'm with Emma. Snape is a rotter if I've ever seen one. The question is what is that dog guarding?"

Killian tried not to groan as David and Emma began tossing ideas back and forth yet again. He agreed with both of them, despite Mary Margaret's eye rolling, there was too much coincidence for him not to, but he didn't see what they could do about it. They were only first years, after all. They didn't stand a chance against the likes of Snape. Better to keep their heads down and make it through the rest of the year without incident.

"You should get to bed, Emma," Mary Margaret finally said. She closed her books one by one, carefully tucking bookmarks into each one. "You want to be well rested for the big game tomorrow."

Emma's face immediately paled and she swallowed. Killian wanted to shake Mary Margaret. For all the ridiculous suggestions Emma and David had come up with--honestly, what use were Merlin’s underpants to anyone--at least the discussion kept her mind off tomorrow's Quidditch game.

"Right," Emma said. "I'll just—" She stood mechanically and followed her roommate up to the girls’ dormitory.

David sighed. “I guess we'd better get to sleep, too.”

Killian woke to sun shining through the windows the next morning with frost tracing delicate star shapes on the other side of the glass. It was the perfect day for a Quidditch game, he thought, and his spirits lifted. He trampled down the stairs, determined to find some way to cheer Emma up with that bit of information, but she looked positively nauseous when he saw her sitting on the couch in the common room. Dark circles camped under her eyes, making her look more like a ghost than a girl.

"Did you sleep at all?" he asked.

"Mary Margaret snores," she muttered lamely. She buried her face in her hands. "I'm going to ruin it, aren't I? I'm going to be the worst Seeker in all of history."

He sat next to her, putting an arm around her shoulders. "Emma you've been talking about Quidditch so much, I've forgotten anything else existed...you know your stuff. And I saw you the day you caught the Remembrall, you're going to be a brilliant Seeker."

Emma laughed. "That probably shouldn't be so reassuring coming from someone who has never played, but thanks."

The Great Hall smelled of potatoes and eggs and sausage when they entered and the din was incredible. Everyone was talking about today's game. Gryffindor vs. Slytherin. Apparently, it was one of the most anticipated match-ups of the year. It took them forever to get to their seats, because nearly all of Gryffindor stopped Emma to wish her luck. It seemed the secret hadn't stayed secret long.

When they finally got situated, Emma piled her plate high, wolfing down sausages and scrambled eggs like she expected to starve the rest of the day.

"Don't eat too much," Mary Margaret said, keeping her portions a little more reasonable. "You don't want to get sick."

Emma slowed her pace a little, but she did finish the entire plate looking no worse for wear until they stood—Emma to go to the locker rooms and the other three to find a seat in the stands.

"Ugh," she said, as they wove through hungry students, "maybe I shouldn't have eaten so much." She shot a look at Killian. "Do not tell Mary Margaret I said that."

"Wouldn't dream of it."

Students crowded the stands when they finally made their way up to the Gryffindor box. So many that David admitted that Mary Margaret had a good idea when she suggested they grab seats now. As it was, they owed their front row seats to Hagrid. The big man took up an entire bench all on his own, but he saved the one next to him. He wore a pair of binoculars around his neck—they looked tiny in his massive hands—and they kept getting lost in his big, bushy beard.

"Great day fer Quidditch," he said.

David nodded and he launched into a conversation that Killian only half followed—partly because he had only gotten a few chapters into _Quidditch Through the Ages_ before he lent it to Emma and partly because he was watching for the first glimpse of her in Quidditch robes.

She was last in line when the Gryffindor team took to the pitch and hard to spot because all that blonde hair had been braided back away from her face. Even from up here, he could make out the faint pink smudge of her scar. Her face turned up to the stands, scanning the crowd, finding Hagrid quite quickly. Killian stood and waved both arms. A grin broke out on her face and she waved back, shoulders relaxing.

The two teams lined up, evergreen against scarlet. The Bludgers and the Snitch were released. The teams were in the air—Killian's heart rose with them, his skin tingling in anticipation.

The Quaffle was up.

“And Nova Johnson of Gryffindor swoops in to take the Quaffle.” Leroy Jordan’s voice boomed across the stadium, though, Killian couldn’t see any speakers. Magic, of course. “Clearly she didn’t slack over the summer. I know one game is too soon to tell, but I’d say that Johnson will be as influential a part of the Gryffindor team as she ever was last year. Quite the Chaser, that girl is…and attractive, too…”

“JORDAN!”

From where he sat, it didn’t look like Professor McGonagall had moved an inch, but it certainly sounded like she was right next to the microphone. Leroy winced, his scarlet and gold scarf rising to his ears as he ducked away from the professor.

“Sorry, Professor.” Leroy cleared his throat. “And Johnson belts across the field, passes neatly to Alicia Spinnet—also a fantastic holdover from last year—back to Johnson and…and Slytherin takes the Quaffle.” Like most of his house, Leroy practically spit the name of their rival.

Killian clutched at the wooden railing as he listened to Leroy, heedless of the height as he leaned into it.  So much was happening at once. His eyes struggled to follow Emma, David's brother, the Gryffindor goals, the Quaffle. He didn't want to miss one second of the game.

“And Happy Nolan sends a Bludger right into the back of Adrien Pucey’s head,” Leroy crowed as the Slytherin fumbled the Quaffle. “And there’s Johnson, back in possession of the Quaffle with a clear field ahead of her.” Leroy leaned forward, the microphone clutched in his hand as he bellowed, “Come on, now, Nova!”

The Slytherin Keeper tried to block her, but he missed and the Quaffle sailed through the hoop.

“GRYFFINDORS SCORE!”

The crowd around him surged to their feet drowning out Leroy as he hooted and hollered while Professor McGonagall pressed her lips together and tried to look displeased. Killian was already on his feet yelling by the time he realized he'd risen right along with the crowd.

He had witnessed a few informal games at the park near his house, but his was his first time at a real game. And it was glorious. He understood why David was so mad about it.

He tore his eyes away, finding Emma, high above the rest, her eyes scanning for the Snitch.

The crowd gasped and cheered as one of the Slytherin players was pushed off the field, missing the audience by a hair. Killian stepped back a little, suddenly conscious of the fact that there was nothing between him and the mayhem out on the pitch.

Leroy Jordan continued to call the plays with a bright voice that made even the dirty plays the Slytherins threw out seem like perfectly legal moves--even if McGonagall had to get on him for his phrasing.

He saw Emma tense a moment before she dove, arm outstretched. Killian leaned out again, just barely catching the flash of gold as it wove between the players in the air. Out of nowhere, the Slytherin captain slammed into Emma, nearly knocking her off her broom.

"Hey!" Killian shouted. "He can't do that." He turned to David. "He can't do that."

David paused his jeering. “Sure he can. What kind of game would you have if it was easy to catch the Snitch?”

"But..."

"Look, she's fine." David pointed to Emma, who was rising up above the main scrimmage again.

“Emma Swan nearly gets the Snitch but is blocked by Marcus Flint—the villain….”

“Jordan,” Professor McGonagall warned.

“I mean the dastardly…

“ _Jordan, I am warning you_ …”

“Fine, fine, keep your panties on, Professor,” Leroy muttered. He danced out of McGonagall’s reach, clutching the microphone tightly to his chest. “Flint nearly kills the Gryffindor Seeker, but no big deal, I’m sure it could happen to anyone. Penalty to Gryffindor.  Spinnet puts it away, no trouble and play continues with Gryffindor still in possession.”

People around Killian grumbled. He heard more than a few choice words yelled at the Slytherin team, which Hagrid tried ineffectually to shush.

Leroy was still talking, his narration falling into an grouchy monotone. “Slytherin in possession—well, that’s just great—Flint with the Quaffle. He passes Spinnet. Passes Bell. And a Bludger goes straight for his face—if we’re lucky it broke his nose—only joking Professor—and—WHAT THE HELL IS SHE DOING????”

Killian waited for the reprimand from McGonagall, but the professor had followed Leroy’s stubby finger. He raised his eyes and found what everyone else was staring at.

High above the ground, Emma clung to her broom. She shot forward for some unfathomable reason. And then jigged to the side. And dropped ten feet for no apparent reason. Killian realized it was her broom that was lurching and jerking about, not Emma

"Dunno what Emma thinks she's about," Hagrid muttered, lifting the binoculars to his eyes.

"Hagrid, can I see those?" Killian asked. He snatched the binoculars from Hagrid the moment the big man leaned in his direction, training them on the teachers' box on a hunch. He scanned the seats, glancing over Professor Heller and Doc and Professor Tiny until he found Snape, sitting one row from the front with quickly moving lips. His eyes stared unblinkingly at Emma. Killian handed the binoculars to Mary Margaret. "It's Snape," he hissed, "he's jinxing the broom."

"What do we do?" David asked.

"Keep an eye on her," Killian said. “I’ve got an idea.”

As he thundered down the stairs, he heard noises of distress from the crowd as more people noticed Emma zipping about uncontrolled.

“Witchcraft!” Leroy bellowed.

“Of course it’s witchcraft, Jordan,” Professor McGonagall said. “This is Hogwarts!” She had her wand out and was trying to follow Emma as she flailed about.

Killian caught glimpses of the game as he careened through the stands, nearly colliding with several innocent bystanders. Play had all but ceased. The other players stared high above them and he caught a glimpse of one of the older girls with her hand over her mouth. Happy dipped in and out around Emma, his hand outstretched as he tried to catch her, but every time he almost had her the broom jerked in the opposite direction.

Killian reached the teachers' box, panting. He took the barest second, gulping down a lungful of air and let it out slowly, before scrambling underneath the stands. Splinters dug into his fingers. He spied the thick, black wool of Snape's robes and crouched even lower, worming in until he was right underneath the Potions professor.

Pulling out his wand, Killian whispered, " _Lacarnum inflamari_."

Since their encounter with the mountain troll, Killian had decided he would never be caught unprepared again. In addition to his normal studies, he had been researching defensive spells, taking notes and practicing them between classes. This was such one of those spells. The corner of Snape's robe burst into flame, the fire climbing up the highly flammable material. He heard a cry of alarm from Snape and the gasps of the professors around him. As he scurried backwards to the stairs, Professor Heller let out an unfortunate sounding squawk that was quickly followed by a thud. Killian felt sorry that the distraction had negatively affected the nervous man, but he didn't stop to see if he was alright.

Instead, he raced down the stairs and onto the nearest catwalk.

Emma flew straight and true, her broom now responding to her every command as she chased the Snitch. It had appeared while Killian was busy crawling out from under the stands and now she and the Slytherin Seeker were in hot pursuit. The little golden orb flew up and around and over to the Hufflepuff stands before dropping straight down the side. Emma followed every move, changing course so effortlessly it seemed like she had rehearsed this. The Slytherin Seeker stayed hot on her tail, diving along with her.

The Snitch hurtled toward the ground. Emma stayed the course. The Slytherin Seeker pulled up, looping up and around, searching for a better angle of approach.

Killian's heart caught in his throat he suddenly found himself furious with her for recklessly endangering her life after he _just_ saved it. But only for a moment. She pulled out of the dive scant feet from the ground, flying low, her hand clapped over her mouth like she might be sick. She jerked and spat out the shining golden orb, clutching it in two fingers as she lifted it above her head.

The Gryffindors burst into a deafening cheer.

Killian tucked his wand away and hurried up to catch up with his friends.

They weren't hard to find. Well, they were a bit difficult to find, but Hagrid wasn't and as they were trailing behind him, Killian rejoined their group with little enough fuss.

Everyone in the stands was swarming down to the Quidditch pitch, hollering and cheering. Everyone except the Slytherins who still sat moping up in the their box. Hagrid cut through the crowd—no one was keen to get in his way—until they were right next to Emma. Oliver Wood and Marcus Flint, the Slytherin captain, stood on either side of her, shouting at the top of their lungs and poking each other emphatically.  

Leroy had made it down from the stands and he was helping Wood yell at Flint. “You’re one to talk about rules!” Neither of the other boys’ insults could be heard over him.

As soon as she saw them, Emma shoved the Snitch into Wood's hand and ducked away, hugging each of her friends in turn.

"That was bloody brilliant!" Killian said. "Best game of Quidditch I ever saw."

She laughed. "It's the only game of Quidditch you ever saw, you ninny!"

"Never seen anyone catch a Snitch in their mouth before," David said as Hagrid led them off the pitch. "That would have made the papers if it had been in a Chudley Cannons game!" He proceeded to narrate the game in great detail, using his hands to represent various players. He hadn't even gotten halfway by the time Hagrid ushered them through the door of his hut.

Killian blinked. He didn’t even remember leaving the Quidditch pitch.

It was barely large enough for all four of them and Hagrid, so the big man shooed Fang out the door for some fresh air and set about making tea.

"I'm glad it's over," Emma said as she sank into a seat. "I guess I'll have to ask Professor McGonagall to take a look at my broom before our next game."

"No, you won't," David said. He murmured a polite thank you as Hagrid handed him a dainty, porcelain teacup filled with hot tea. "Killian figured it out. It was Snape."

"That's rubbish." Hagrid straightened up so fast he nearly hit the boar hanging from the ceiling.

"It's true," David protested. "I saw it when Killian handed me the binoculars. He was keeping eye contact and murmuring and everything."

"Why would Snape do a thing like that?"

The four children looked at each other.

"I found out something he doesn't want me to know," Emma said. She stirred her tea, took a sip, and dropped in another sugar cube. "He got bitten on Halloween. I think he was trying to steal whatever that three-headed dog is guarding while everyone else was occupied with the troll."

The teapot hit the floor with a crash. Mary Margaret cried out and jerked her feet up onto her chair, barely missing getting splashed by the steaming water.

"How do you know about Fluffy?"

" _Fluffy_?" Mary Margaret asked. "How in the—"

David elbowed her and she shut up.

"He's yours?" Emma asked incredulously.

"Yeah." Hagrid bent down, picking up pieces of shattered pottery. "Met a Greek chappie in a pub and bought him. I'm letting Dumbledore borrow him to guard the—" Hagrid's mouth snapped shut with an audible click and he was suddenly very interested in picking up the rest of the tea pot.

Mary Margaret knelt down next to him, carefully picking shards off the floor. "You let Dumbledore borrow him and...?"

"Nope, not sayin' 'nother word. That's top secret it is." He accepted the broken pieces from Mary Margaret just the same.

Emma stood. "But Snape's trying to steal it."

"Rubbish. Snape's a Hogwarts teacher."

"I’ve been reading up on jinxes. I know one when I see one," Killian said. Everyone turned to look at him. He scratched behind his ear, but went on, "You've got to keep eye contact and Snape wasn't blinking."

"I'm tellin' yeh, yer wrong!" Hagrid boomed. He blushed a little and continued more quietly. "Snape would never try to kill a student. Somethin' else happened with yer broom, Emma. Now all four of yeh need to stop meddlin' with things that don't concern yeh. You forget that dog and you forget what it's guardin', that's between Professor Dumbledore and Nicholas Flamel—"

"Aha!" Emma cried. "So there's someone named Nicholas Flamel."

Hagrid’s face turned beet red. He dumped the shards of teapot into a bucket and then, seizing Emma and Killian by the back of the neck like they were merely overgrown kittens, he carried them out the door.

"You two'll follow if yeh know what's good for yeh," he said, glaring at David and Mary Margaret.

The four students trudged back up the castle.

"We'll have to try again," Emma said.

"I've got a better idea," Killian replied.

"Oh?"

"Yeah. If this Nicholas Flamel guy is famous for anything, it'll be in the library."

Mary Margaret looked at Killian like he had just handed her a brand new owl.

Emma and David groaned

 


	5. Christmas

Christmas decorations appeared all over Hogwarts before Killian realized November had come and gone.

Time slipped by you like water through a sieve when you spent every spare half hour in the library looking for information.

They still hadn’t found a single line on Nicholas Flamel. They checked all the usual sources: _Great Wizards of the Twentieth Century_ , _Notable Magical Names of Our Time_ , _Important Modern Magical Discoveries_ , _A Study of Recent Developments in Wizardry_ and every other promising book the four of them could find.

Between school and this research, Killian was at the point where no sooner did he open a book than he wanted to hurl it at the nearest wall. Mary Margaret, on the other hand, was thriving. She made little diagrams of the library and was crossing off the shelves with gusto as they went through them one by one and found nothing. She seemed just as pleased to cross shelves out as she would be if they had found anything.

That was the only sour spot in his life, though. Not even Liam telling him to sign up to stay at Hogwarts over Christmas dampened his mood.

"You're not upset?" Emma asked as he signed his name right below hers.

"Nope." He grinned.

Mary Margaret eyed the list with a jealous eye. "I wish I was staying. It doesn't feel right, going home to Gran when you three are staying here."

"It's not like we'll be alone," David said around a mouthful of porridge. "Heck, I've still got half my family here, even if my parents _are_ off in Romania."

David's parents sent him a letter similar to the one Killian received from Liam, though his read, "We're visiting Tom in Romania" instead of, "I'm crashing on a friend's couch and it's already tight, so if you don't mind..."

Killian wished Liam could come to Hogwarts for Christmas, too, but since that wasn't possible, he couldn't think of any other people he would rather spend the holiday with.

Not even Regina's gloating could bring down his mood, though he did feel a bit sorry for Mary Margaret, who turned bright red every time someone asked her if she was attending all the Malfoys' grand holiday happenings. The answer was always a firm no as her Gran didn’t approve of the Malfoys. According to Mary Margaret, her mother Eva had been the only exception to this rule—she said it helped that her mother’s family had disowned her.

"Watcher," Hagrid said, narrowly missing the four of them as he hauled a massive fir tree into the castle. "Don't want to knock any of yeh down now."

They were just moving out of the way when a snide voice said, "Quit blocking the door." Regina sneered at Hagrid as she slipped past. "Pay attention, Nolan, that could be your job one day. I'm sure that hut is a step up from whatever hovel your family lives in."

David leapt for Regina. Killian lunged after him, trying to keep him off of the girl.

"NOLAN!"

Everyone froze.

"It's not his fault, Professor Snape," Hagrid said, dusting pine needles from his shaggy coat. "Ms. Malfoy were talkin' trash about his family."

"Fighting is against Hogwarts rules, Hagrid, regardless of who started the fight." Snape did his best to look reluctant as he said, "Five points from Gryffindor, Nolan, and be glad it's not more. Now move along."

Regina and her friends smirked as they ran past, covering their mouths as they giggled.

"We should go, too," Mary Margaret said, nudging David with her elbow, "we've got enough time before lunch to search the library."

"What're you folks doing in the library, term’s nearly over? Yeh should be enjoyin' the holidays."

"Oh, we're not working," Emma said, widening her eyes at Hagrid. She might have been mistaken for a Christmas angel with those green eyes and the blonde hair in curling wisps about her face. "We've just been trying to figure out who Nicholas Flamel is."

"What?" Hagrid half-dropped the massive tree, forcing a squawk out of David as he ducked out of the way. "Now I've told yeh to drop this—"

"Oh, we're not interested in that," Mary Margaret lied smoothly. "We just want to know who Nicholas Flamel is."

Emma nodded. "I know I've heard the name and it'll bug me until I can remember where." She paused. "I don't suppose you'd want to save us the trouble, Hagrid?"

"I'm not sayin' a thing. Not. A. Thing." And he hoisted the tree back up and carried it into the Great Hall.

"Well, it was worth a try," Emma said.

"You three will be sure to keep looking while I'm gone, right?" Mary Margaret said. "And make sure you take my list!"

"Yeah, sure." Emma sighed. "I just wish we could get into that restricted section. If whatever is up there is dangerous enough to need all that guarding, it's probably something dark."

Killian nodded solemnly.

All the students who were going home packed off in the afternoon. His and David’s three roommates were lucky enough to spend time with their families, so their room felt all empty and echoey as he tried to sleep that night. He stared up at his canopy, listening to David's soft snores and fighting the restlessness in his limbs. Finally, he got up and crept down the stairs, hoping that maybe a little movement would loosen up his nerves and put him in the mood for sleep.

"Who's there?" a soft voice asked as his feet brushed the bottom step. It sounded like Emma.

"It's me."

"Killian?"

"Yeah." He wished he had his wand. The common room was pitch black, the odd shapes of chairs and tables and couches the only solid things he could see. "Where are you?"

"Over here—No—Oh, hold on… Lumos." A small point of light flared, revealing Emma's pale face, her hair ghosting around her face. She peered over the back of the couch that sat in front of the cold fireplace.

Hands out in front of him, he shuffled his way around the couch. Emma sat up, pulling her feet in to make room for him.

"What are you doing down here?" he asked.

Emma shrugged. "It's too quiet with only me. I couldn't sleep. You?"

"The same..." He tilted his head, thinking. "Well, not quite the same, Dave snores, but it feels...emptier without Archie and Will and Robin."

Emma nodded like that made perfect sense. Like you could feel the absence of someone.

You could. Sometimes, even when they were still there.

Killian shifted to face her, drawing his knees up. His robe was still upstairs, tossed carelessly at the side of his bed—he hadn't exactly meant to set up down here. With a roll of her eyes, Emma tossed one end of her blanket to him, allowing enough slack that he could draw it over his knees too.

"David was horrified when I told him the Dursleys aren't going to send me any presents," Emma said softly.

"I'm not expecting anything from my family, either."

"But that's because Liam can't afford it." Emma picked at a thread on her blanket. "He'd send you anything you wanted if he could. The Dursleys just wish I never existed."

Killian waited patiently. He knew from things she said offhandedly that the Dursleys hadn't been kind, but as Emma whispered about her cupboard under the stairs and missed meals and clothes that were too big for her, he started to think his own upbringing hadn't been so bad.

He almost told her about it. About everything: His mother, what had happened at the beginning of the summer when their mother told Liam she had no intentions of sending him to Hogwarts, how everything fell apart after that. But he couldn't. It didn't seem right to gripe about the minor inconveniences in his life. Secondhand robes and textbooks with notes already written in the margins seem small in the light of what Emma’s stories revealed.

The couch creaked as Emma shifted. "Sorry. I'm talking all about myself. You probably don't want to hear all about my dysfunctional family."

Killian shrugged, then remembered Emma probably couldn't see him. "It's alright."

"What about you?" she asked. "Is it really just you and your brother?"

He opened his mouth to say no, then clamped it shut again. Clearing his throat he said, “Yeah.”

They sat in silence for a little while, until Emma yawned so loudly it made Killian jump.

"We should get back to bed," he said softly.

"I guess." She didn't sound eager to head back up to her empty dorm room.

"Hey, if it's silence that bugs you, there are three empty beds and a snoring Dave upstairs."

Emma laughed, deep, from her gut. "I like that idea. Hold on." Light flared at the tip of her wand again and she handed it to him while she gathered her pillow and blanket. He realized she'd planned to sleep down here. She balanced them all in one arm, reaching for his hand with the other.

"We'd better put the light out or Arthur will have a cow."

Killian shuddered. Artie would not be pleased to find them out of bed at this hour, even if there was no school in the morning. They crept upstairs, holding back giggles and stubbing their toes. As they passed Arthur’s floor, both of them held their breath. Killian prayed he kept sleeping. Sending Emma back to that big, empty room just seemed wrong after everything she told him.

"He really is snoring," Emma whispered as they entered. She set her pillow on the bed next to Killian's and crawled onto it. "Goodnight, Killian."

"Goodnight, Emma," he whispered back, "and Happy Christmas."

"Happy Christmas."

As it turned out, Emma snored, too. It should have annoyed him, but Killian fell asleep with a smile on his face.

He slept peacefully until the next morning when David awoke him very rudely. One moment, he was dreaming of being at home with his family and the next frigid air attacked his hands and his feet and his stomach where his pyjamas rode up. Killian squinted up at David leaning over him, Killian’s blanket in one hand.

"Oi, Killian!"

"What's happening?" It felt like he was talking around rocks. He rubbed his eyes and sat up, pushing David away as he did so.

"There's a girl in our room," David hissed.

"It's just Emma." He glanced over to where Emma was still curled up under the blanket

David thought about it for a minute and nodded. "Yeah, I suppose you're right." He threw the blanket back at Killian. "Well, you get to wake her up, because it's Christmas and it's impolite to open presents if everyone isn't awake."

"You shouldn't wait on my account, I won't…" Emma's sleepy voice trailed off as David jabbed a finger pointedly at the foot of her bed. Scrambling to peer over the edge, she gasped. "I've got presents."

"You both do. Honestly,” David said, shaking his head as if they were both daft. . “It's Christmas."

He broke into a big grin as Killian and Emma vaulted out of bed, hurriedly donning their robes. The three of them grabbed all their packages and sat in the middle of the floor as they ripped the paper off without bothering to take turns.

"Oh, look at that," Emma said. "The Dursleys didn't forget me." Giggling, she passed the sad present to Killian.

It was a card with a fifty cent piece taped to it. The card read, _We received your message and enclose your Christmas present. Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia._

David's eyes went wide. "What is that?"

Emma and Killian exchanged a glance, not sure if he was joking.

David continued staring at the coin with eyes nearly as wide.

"It's a fifty cent piece?" Emma clarified.

"Oh, Muggle money?" David's eyes lit up and he practically ripped it from Killian's grasp. "Can I look at it?”

Emma rolled her eyes. "You can keep it for all I care."

"Really?"

Despite their dire predictions the night before, Emma and Killian made out pretty well. Hagrid had carved Emma a wooden flute and David's mom had knitted them both a sweater. A green one with a big gold E for Emma and a bright red one with black K for Killian.

David turned bright scarlet. "Those are from my mum. I told her you weren't getting any presents," he muttered. "She makes us sweaters every year. I'm always maroon." With a sigh, he held his sweater up for them to see.

Mrs. Nolan also sent each of them a box of homemade fudge. Killian swallowed back tears, he remembered being very small and making fudge with his own mum one Christmas, back when she was still halfway present.

They received more chocolate from Mary Margaret, frogs instead of fudge this time. A box each for Emma and Killian.

Killian's last present was a spyglass from Liam. It was old and a bit battered in places, the bronze accents looked a little tarnished, but it still slid in and out with ease. He put it up to his eye and immediately jerked it back down. He hadn't meant to get a near microscopic view of David's nose.

With a spyglass came a note, Killian, _Sorry it's not a pair of binoculars, but I thought you could use this to watch the Quidditch matches at school. This way you won't have to share with David anymore. Liam P.S.-It has a setting to see in the dark, just in case games go late._

Killian turned the spyglass over and over in his hand, wondering how many meals Liam had skipped to buy this. Or had he found it in their parents’ things? It was certainly old enough. There was a little ring on the bottom with an arrow. At the moment the arrow pointed at a tiny sun etched in the bronze, but a little moon kept the sun company one notch over.

"Here, you've got one more, Emma," David said, shoving Emma's last package at her.

Emma frowned at the parcel, tilting it this way and that as she studied it. With a shrug, she unwrapped it, releasing a length of silvery material.

David's eyes went wide. "I've heard of those. If that's what I think it is—well, let's just say there aren't many of them."

"Many of what?" Emma and Killian demanded at the same time.

"Invisibility cloaks."

Killian stared at the cloak. It swished back and forth as Emma slung it around her shoulders, like water. He and David both jumped up as everything below Emma's neck disappeared.

"Blimey! It is!" David shrieked.

"Look, there's a note." Killian bent and scooped up the paper that had fallen to the floor. He glanced down at it. "Emma..." Killian paused, showing her the note. "I think that's your father's cloak."

She snatched the paper from his hands, the cloak sliding from her shoulders and pooling around her feet as she stared at it.

"You alright there, Emma?" David asked.

She nodded. "Yeah." Her voice cracked.

Killian understood perfectly, he would give anything to have something of his father's.

They had just enough time to clean up most of the mess before Happy burst into the room bellowing. He, too, wore a sweater with a letter on it, a big grey H on a background of navy.

"Merry Christmas!" He stopped short at the sight of Emma. "Oh. Hello, Emma." His eyes jumped from her to the present on the floor to the blanket and pillow on the bed next to Killian's. "You're lucky you're first years or this might look suspicious." He winked at Killian for some unfathomable reason. "Don't worry, I shan't tell Artie. Speaking of. Dave, you want to come help me force him into his sweater? You know how he gets.

"And then we're going to go wait outside the Slytherin door," he continued, his voice floating down the hall as he and David left the room. "For James. None of that separate tables guff today, our whole family is sitting together."

The rest of the day was wonderful.

David and Happy did indeed drag James to the Gryffindor table and he seemed to enjoy himself. Even Arthur loosened up, joking with the rest of them as he sported a grey sweater with a bright, crimson A.

"This is the best Christmas I can ever remember," Killian whispered to Emma later that night. It certainly was the happiest, even if he still missed his brother.

A few feet away, she nodded. David was already snoring and she grimaced as he let out a particularly loud one.

"I can't believe Mrs. Nolan sent me a present," she whispered. "The Dursleys hardly even remembered I existed."

Killian nodded. "I was lucky if my mum remembered it was Christmas, let alone to go out to get presents."

It took him a moment to realize what he'd said. He clapped his mouth shut, hoping Emma didn't ask many more questions. She had to know something with how people talked behind his back, but if she did, she knew better than to ask.

"I'm sorry that happened to you," was all she said.

He drifted off to the sound of David's snores and Emma's gentle breathing. He heard her move around a few times and almost asked her if something was wrong, but sleep already had him and he drifted off before his mouth could form the words.

Someone shook him violently several hours later.

"Wha—" he sat up, hands ready to fend off his attacker, but she had already moved to the bed next to him.

"Come on, David, wake up," Emma said, leaning over David and subjecting him to the same treatment as she had Killian. "Killian's already awake. You have to come see."

"No he’s not." Killian rubbed at his eyes and cleared his throat so his voice wouldn't be all high and scratchy. “See what?”

"It had better be a dead body," David muttered. "I don't see what else would be worth waking us up in the middle of the night."

"Bloody hell, David." Killian swung his legs out of bed, groping for his robe as the chill air hit his skin.

"I saw my parents," Emma whispered.

She stepped into a shaft of moonlight and Killian realized that is wasn't darkness cloaking her body, it was _the_ cloak. The hood was thrown back, so they could still see her face floating in midair like some spectre. Nearly Headless Nick would be quite miffed if he could see her now.

"Like in a dream?" David asked.

Emma shook her head. "No. Hurry, you have to see."

David rolled out of bed without further protest and Emma held a corner of the cloak out to each of them. To Killian's surprise, they all fit, it was tight, but as long as they kept their steps small enough to keep their feet inside the cloak, they were completely covered.

They wandered the corridors as the hour grew later, Emma muttering to herself the whole time, backtracking at points, growling in frustration at others. David tried to convince her that they should all go back to bed.

"No, this is it," she said, pointing to a suit of armor.

After checking the corridor, she whipped the cloak off of them and slipped inside the room. With a shrug, Killian followed.

The room was empty except for a tall mirror leaned up against the back wall. High as the ceiling with a gold frame and an inscription carved across the top in a language Killian never heard of before.

Emma stood in front of it, her fingers touching the glass, looking like she wished she could step into it.

"Do you see them?" She spoke low, as you might in a church.

"See who?" David asked. "I just see you."

Her eyes narrowed. "You two don't see anything?"

Killian shook his head.

Emma grabbed his sleeve, pulling him in front of the mirror instead. "There, look."

He obeyed and found that his wasn’t the only reflection in the mirror. He recognized Liam, with that sincere, affable smile. And his mother, looking like he'd never see her, with her hair combed and her eyes bright—shining with happiness as she stares up at someone Killian doesn't remember.

But he knows who it has to be.

It's clear that he and Liam inherited their father's eyes and dark hair. He smiled a close-lipped smile at Killian, full of regret and lost promises. Killian touched his shoulder, fingers on the exact spot where his father's hand rests in his reflection. The other hand hid in the shadows between Killian and Liam, joined to a shadow leading to his mother.

The woman standing next to his father, with her arm slung around his father's shoulders, stumped him. She wore bright red lipstick and big grin. The kind of grin that made you think doing something reckless was a good idea. Her hair was dark like his father's. Killian's eyes darted between the two of them, picking out the similarities. The arch of the brow. The shape of the eyes. He suddenly wanted to write home to Liam and ask if their father had a sister. And what happened to her.

The thing that surprised him the least was Emma, standing right next to him. He wasn’t surprised that she fit.

"Well, what do you see?" David asked.

"It's my family."

"Let David have a turn," Emma insisted.

"I just saw my family. At dinner." Despite his protests, David let Emma drag him in front of the mirror. His eyes widened.

"See?"

David gaped.

"Well?" Emma bounced on the balls of her feet.

"Well, it's not my family," David replied. He touched his chest. "I'm head boy, like Phil. And I've got the House Cup and—and the Quidditch Cup and I'm Quidditch captain..." His voice trailed off. "Does this mirror show the future?"

"It can't," Emma said, kicking at the ground. "My family all died a long time ago."

"Oh, right."

She spun on him suddenly. "What did you see Killian?"

"My family. My mum, dad, everyone. We were together."

A noise in the hallway made them all start and Mrs. Norris poked her mangy head around the door. Killian's heart dropped to his feet, but the cat glared at them briefly and disappeared back in the hallway with no sign of her owner.

"Let's get back," Killian whispered, "before she fetches Filch."

Emma and David nodded and they all ducked back under the cloak.

"Emma," Killian said once they were back in the room.

"Yeah?"

"You were there, too," he said softly. "With my family. You were there, too."

"Really?"

"Yeah."

She sighed. "That sounds nice."

"Emma?"

"Yeah?"

"Can I tell Liam some of what you told me? About how things are for you?"

The bed springs creaked, her blankets rustled. "What? Why?"

Killian's face felt very hot. "I just thought—I thought maybe you could spend the summer with us. So you don't have to go back to those awful people."

He waited so long for her to speak, he thought she'd fallen back to sleep.

"You wouldn't mind?" she asked in a feather light voice.

"No."

"That sounds nice, too."

When he woke the next morning, Killian got up straight away and dashed a note off to Liam. His brother knew that he and Emma were friends. Killian had mentioned her often enough in his previous letters, but this was the first time he talked about her in any detail. He hoped Liam didn't tease him for spending a whole letter on a girl.

Emma was distracted in the morning. She didn't want to play wizard chess with David or Killian, she shrugged away any mention of Nicholas Flamel. Killian knew she was thinking about the mirror.

"You're going again tonight?" David hissed.

Emma didn't say anything.

"Don't," he continued. "You're going to get caught. Think of the trouble you'll get into if someone catches you just sneaking out of the boy's dormitory...not to mention..."

"Why?"

David's face scrunched up in thought. "I—actually, I don't know..." He glanced at Killian who felt as lost as David looked.

Emma rolled her eyes. "No one can catch me if I'm wearing the cloak."

Despite Killian and David's protests, Emma went again that night, slipping out of bed and disappearing between one moon beam and another. Killian thought about going after her, but decided against it. It would only be worse if the two of them were caught. He waited, giving up on sleep within minutes.

Emma returned an hour later. "I won't go again."

"Good." And he rolled over and went to sleep.

In the morning, she folded up the cloak and carried it back to her room.

 


	6. Nicholas Flamel

“You’re sure?” Mary Margaret asked.

The Great Hall bustled with activity as students slid into their places at the tables. Every now and then, the vocal exuberance of a reunion would punctuate the air. Students had been arriving at Hogwarts all day, most of them glad to see friends and excited for the second half of term.

Mary Margaret leaned over the table, her hand practically in the middle of a bowl of pudding as she quizzed the three of them.

Emma sighed, exchanging a long-suffering glance with David. “Is it possible to transfigure yourself into someone else?”

“That’s not transfiguration,” Killian supplied around a mouthful of biscuit—the kind that had rarely crossed the threshold back home, with decadent icing and sprinkles.

David squinted at Mary Margaret. “Are you positive about that? Because Mary Margaret sort of sounds like McGonagall on pop quiz day.”

“I just want to know if you found anything,” Mary Margaret said. She sat back with a huff, not even muttering as Killian reached for another treat.

“We already told you what we found.” Emma glanced around, her eyes lingering on the teachers—who looked considerably less excited than the students—as they ate their meals at the head table. “Nothing. We must’ve checked dozens of shelves off our list, but we didn’t find a single word on Nicholas Flamel.” On the last two words, her voice dropped even lower, so that even from right next to her, Killian read the words on her lips more than he heard them.

Mary Margaret pouted. “Well, that’s disappointing.” She stabbed her fork into her dinner, pushing her potatoes around like the answer was hiding somewhere among the butter and gravy. And then she smiled. “But at least I’ll be able to be here now if you find it. Emma, you said you’ve been checking off the shelves? I need those back if I’m going to redraw them and come up with another plan. We’ll definitely find it now that I’m here to keep you three on task.”

David rolled his eyes.

Killian gave him a look that said it was better to just accept it and reached for his third biscuit. He had a feeling he’d need the sugar buzz to keep up with Mary Margaret.

The first few weeks of term went much like that. They searched and searched, but found nothing new. At the same time, their teachers assigned more and more homework. Killian didn’t know how Mary Margaret managed to do that and pour over the diagrams of the library every night. The mystery of Nicholas Flamel and whatever was in that room gnawed at him, until it was all he could do to focus on his homework.

And then to add all that, Emma sloshed in from Quidditch practice one with disturbing news.

 

"You look like a drowned rat." David, who was sprawled on his back on the nearby sofa, lifted his eye to give Emma a chagrined once over as she ducked into the common room. His assessment wasn’t wrong. Her robes were soaked through and her hair had mostly come out of its braid, hanging around her face in loose, stringy waves. He patted his pocket where his rat probably slept. Sleeping was all the rat seemed to do. "No offense, Scabbers."

"A drowned rat that's just had its tail cut off," Killian added. He budged over at the table, sliding his school books well out of the reach of Emma's dripping uniform. She actually squelched as she sat next to him. "What's wrong, Swan?"

"Snape is refereeing the next match."

Mary Margaret's head snapped up from her homework. "He's what?"

"Shhh." Emma pressed a finger to her lips, which were tinged blue, and gave a quick rundown of what went down in practice.

"Well, you can't play,” Mary Margaret said, turning back to her books like that solved the matter.

"They won't let her sit out for no reason," David said.

"She could fake being sick," Killian suggested.

"Or she could fake a broken leg," Mary Margaret said.

David sat up. "She could really break her leg."

“That’s a terrible idea,” Mary Margaret hissed at the same time that Killian smacked the back of David’s head and snapped, “No!”

Emma tilted her head, as though that was the best idea she’d heard so far.

Before Killian could tell her how ridiculous that idea was—especially since Madam Pomfrey could just regrow the bone with Skele-Grow, one of David and Killian’s roommates quite literally hopped in, drawing the stares of the entire Gryffindor common room.

"Taking his last name a bit seriously, isn't he?" David asked.

Emma whacked David on the side opposite from where Killian had bopped him. "Don't be so dense."

The boy, who bore the unfortunate name of Archibald Hopper—though everyone except the professors called him Archie—finally lost his balance and toppled over onto the carpet. It was then Killian realized what Emma meant.

Archie was the unlucky victim of a Leg Locker Curse.

Mary Margaret scoffed as the rest of the room burst into laughter, silenced David's chuckle with a venomous look, and hurried forward as she slid her wand from her robes in one smooth motion.

David and Killian followed, extending their hands to him once Mary Margaret reversed the curse and helping him onto shaky legs.

"What happened?" Emma asked. Their books had been stacked on an empty chair, but she cleared them away quickly as Archie wobbled his way over.

"Regina was looking for someone to practice on." He sank into the chair gratefully, taking his glasses from Mary Margaret and putting them back on.

Emma's hands curled into fists. "You should tell Professor McGonagall. Regina shouldn't get away with something like this."

Archie twisted his fingers in his lap, pale eyes flicking to each of them. "She'll think I'm not brave enough to be in Gryffindor. No, don't deny it, I know you all think it too." He clutched at his bright orange hair. "I think you might be right."

"Nonsense," Emma said, hands on her hips like she meant to fight him until he agreed with her.

Killian thought that sounded like a very Emma thing to do.

"The hat put you in Gryffindor and as far as I can tell it hasn't made a mistake yet." Emma patted her pocket, pulling out a chocolate frog—her last chocolate frog from Christmas—and handing it to Archie. "Here. Candy always makes me feel better."

Archie stared at the box and swiped under his eyes with his thumb. "Thank you."

"You're worth twelve of Regina," she said.

"Thank you," Archie repeated in an even smaller voice as he carefully unwrapped the frog. He looked at the card for a moment as he munched on the chocolate and then held it out to Emma. "I've already got this one, do you need it?"

She plucked it out of Archie's hand with a smile. "Thanks, Archie."

He blushed so red his hair looked like tongues of flame and ran off to the boy's dorm.

"Odd chap," David said, "you know—ow, Emma, what?"

Emma was poking him repeatedly—and forcefully—on the arm, waving the card from Archie in her other hand.

"I found him!" she howled. "I knew I read it somewhere!"

"Found who?" David tried to grab the card from Emma, but Killian got there first.

His eyes widened as he read the sentence. "She’s found Nicholas Flamel—"

"Give that back." Emma snatched the card away, rolling her eyes at Killian. When she spoke again, it was much softer, "Listen...'Dumbledore is particularly famous for his defeat of the dark wizard Grindelwald in 1945, for the discovery of the twelve uses of dragon's blood, and his work on alchemy with Nicholas Flamel'!"

Mary Margaret actually clapped her hands together and bounced in delight. She jumped to her feet and her homework fell to the floor, but she didn’t pay any attention as her scroll full of cramped writing unrolled itself on the plush carpet. She spun, ran halfway to the girls’ stairs, spun again, and ran back to them.

"Stay here," she said and she took the stairs two at a time.

"What just happened?" David asked.

Killian crossed his arms. "I'm betting she has some book up there."

"Sounds reasonable."

She did indeed return with a book. A massive, dusty looking thing with yellowed pages and a worn cover.

"Blimey," David said, "you could kill someone with that thing."

"I got this from the library ages ago. For a little bit of bedtime reading you know." Mary Margaret flipped the book open, rustling through the pages faster than Killian would ever have dared with such an old book.

" _That's_ what you consider bedtime reading?" David asked.

Emma nodded. "You have no idea."

Killian admitted the book was a bit thick, even for his tastes, but Mary Margaret paid them no mind whatsoever.

"Aha!" she cried, tapping a page with her finger. "Here we are, Nicholas Flamel is the only known maker of the Sorcerer's Stone!"

Emma, Killian, and David all said, "The what?"

Which was a mistake on their part.

Mary Margaret's face brightened. “The ancient study of alchemy…”

“Alche-what-y?” David cut in. “I thought we were talking about rocks.”

“Hush!” Mary Margaret wagged her finger at all three of them, glaring at Killian and Emma as though they had interrupted as well. She cleared her throat and started reading again, her voice soft, but official. “The ancient study of alchemy— ” she paused here, eyes drilling into David, “—is concerned with making the _Sorcerer’s Stone_ , a legendary substance with astonishing powers. The stone will transform any metal into pure gold. It also produces the Elixir of Life, which will make the drinker immortal.

“And here’s the important part.” She tapped the page with her finger, though the writing was too cramped for anyone to read it without pushing her aside. “There have been many reports of the Sorcerer’s Stone over the centuries, but the only Stone currently in existence belongs to Mr. Nicholas Flamel, the noted alchemist.” She shot another look at David, the _I told you so_ written plainly on her features. “Mr. Flamel, who celebrated his six hundred and sixty-fifth birthday last year, enjoys a               quiet life in Devon with his wife, Perenelle, six hundred and fifty-eight.”

There was a lengthy pause when she finished and closed the book with a flourish.

Emma raised an eyebrow. “Are we allowed to talk now?”

Mary Margaret nodded and Killian felt suddenly that he needed to raise his hand before speaking.

"Six hundred and sixty-fifth birthday?" David asked with incredulity.

"That's quite impressive," Killian added. He leaned around Mary Margaret, scanning the paragraph, sure that she hadn't left anything out, but wanting to see for himself.

"Well, that's one thing solved," Mary Margaret said. "Now we just have to figure out what to do with Emma and the Quidditch match."

Emma shrugged. "We've don't have a reserve Seeker. Gryffindor forfeits the match if I don't play."

# # #

David and Killian showed up at the Quidditch pitch early on the morning of the match, slipping into their seats while the stands were still mostly empty. Killian didn’t know what they could do from all the way over in the Gryffindor box, but he clung to the rail as though he could protect Emma by mere proximity. From the grim set of his jaw, David felt the same.

The stands started to fill and they scooted further apart, saving space for Mary Margaret. The wood groaned horribly and they looked behind to find Hagrid taking a seat in the back, his binoculars hanging around his neck. Killian felt in his pocket for the spyglass Liam gave him.

“Am I climbing over you two? Or are you going to budge over, David?” Mary Margaret’s imperious voice asked. She looked rather chipper for someone whose best friend would likely meet a grizzly end today. “Oh, don’t look so glum.”

She plopped down next to them.

David held his hand out to Killian. “Can I see your spyglass, Killian?”

“What? Why?” Killian clutched it tightly, eying David.

“I want to see if she’s done anything nasty to our least favorite professor.” He squinted at Mary Margaret. “I mean, I know she’s an incurable teacher’s pet, but for Emma she might forget that.”

Mary Margaret sighed. “I haven’t done anything.”

She waited, lips pursed together. Finally she bumped into David’s shoulder. “You’ll never guess who I ran into on my way here.”

“Well, you want to tell us, so spit it out.” David glared.

Grin broadening, she pointed to the teachers’ box.

Carefully navigating his way past Professor McGonagall and Leroy Jordan was a tall, thin figure in purple robes and a tall hat.

“Blimey,” David breathed. “Is that…”

“It is,” Killian confirmed, his eye pressed to the sight on his spyglass. He swung it about, seeking out the  foreboding, black figure. The glass gave him a perfect view of Snape’s cold, black eyes fixed on the teachers’ box. Good. He had noticed too. “No way Snape tries anything with Dumbledore here.”

“Nope.” Mary Margaret sighed. “Emma’s safe.”

“For now,” David muttered, “but what happens after the game, when Dumbledore isn’t watching?”

“We’ll worry about that later,” Killian said, stowing his spyglass safely in his pocket.

David jerked forward. “Ow!” He glared behind him, rubbing at the back of his head.

“Oh, sorry, Nolan,” Regina said, daintily picking her way through the stands. Mal and Ursula were hot on her heels. “I didn’t see you there.”

Mary Margaret patted David’s shoulder. “Just ignore her.”

David exhaled slowly and obeyed.

Killian nodded, staring grimly forward as he watched Emma. Even with Dumbledore’s presence, there was a lot that could go wrong in a Quidditch game.

“Aw, c’mon,” David shouted as Snape awarded a penalty to Gryffindor because Happy hit a Bludger and it just happened to go in Snape’s direction.

“You know,” Regina drawled behind them, “I think I’ve figured out how Gryffindor picks their players. It’s certainly not based on talent, that Swan girl can barely stay on a broom. Remember last game?” She paused, waiting for her friends’ laughter, which was long and loud and turned into cheering when Snape awarded Hufflepuff yet another undeserved penalty. “But, of course, she’s got no parents, so they had to let her on the team. And then there’s Harold Nolan… his family has got no money. I bet he just boo-hooed a little and Wood let him on.”

A hand landed on Killian’s shoulder.  He jumped, whirling to see Regina, a look of false pity on her face.

“Maybe you should ask to get on the team, Jones.”

Killian turned back around with gritted teeth. “I’m worth ten of you, Regina.”

“Jones, I’m just trying to help you have a little fun. Who knows how long it’ll be before you’ve got a room next to dear old mum at St. Mungo’s.”

“Shut up, Regina,” Killian muttered. His hand closed around the spyglass in his pocket, gripping it tightly to keep from lashing out. Emma. He looked up in time to see Emma make a spectacular dive. People jumped to their feet cheering and gasping. Killian gripped the rail with his free hand, his breath caught in his throat.

“No wonder you two get along,” Regina crowed. “She’s as crazy as you are.”

Something inside Killian snapped. He whirled on Regina, pouncing on her and wrestling her to the ground. She shrieked and clawed at his face, her nails tearing down his cheek and drawing blood. His fist collided with her nose. And then Mal and Ursula were on top of them, too. Someone—Killian didn’t know who—landed a solid punch to his gut. His breath whooshed out. He heard David bellow and jump in the fray.

Mary Margaret was screeching now, but he could only make out some of the words. “David—Killian!!! Where—over! Emma—Gryffindor---“

“Oh, fer heaven’s sake,” Hagrid’s gruff voice cut through all the fighting.

Killian’s feet left the ground. He looked up to find Hagrid staring down at him with disapproval. Regina hung from Hagrid’s other hand, kicking and thrashing the air. Killian, however, stopped fighting, staring at the boards beneath his toes as Hagrid shook both of them.

“My mother will hear of this!” Regina screeched.

“Let her,” Hagrid said. “Now, off with yeh. I don’t want to see no more foolin’ around.” He set the two on them on their feet and glared until Regina and her friends started off.

“Hagrid, I—”

“No, Killian, I heard what she said about yer mum. Just don’ let it happen again.”

And then Mary Margaret had a vice grip around his neck and David was clutching his other shoulder shouting, “We won! Emma did it!”

“Come on!” Mary Margaret cried, tugging at both their arms.

They raced down all the way back to the castle, joining the herd of Gryffindor students as they headed to the dorms. Several voices shouted the password all at once and then they were all piling inside. It was only a few minutes before the other players trampled in, yelling and pounding each other on the back.

Emma wasn’t among them.

They waited for what felt like hours. Twice Killian stood up, determined to go find her, but both times, David tugged him back down onto the couch.

"She's probably fiddling with that broom of hers," he said. "You worry too much, Killian."

Mary Margaret looked like she agreed with Killian, though. "Maybe Wood will know where she is. Dumbledore could have pulled her aside or something."

"Right." He didn't know why he hadn't thought of that first. He ducked through the crowd, trying and failing to find the Keeper. He could hear Oliver Wood’s voice mixed with all the other noise, but there were so many older students he couldn’t see a thing.

“There you are!” A familiar voice called as someone grabbed his arm. “Come on. Where is David?” Emma dragged Killian and Mary Margaret in the direction they indicated, refusing to say a word until they were all standing outside the common room.

“I followed Snape…”

“You what?” Killian and David snapped at the same time.

“Oh hush, he didn’t see me this time.” She leaned forward, her hands moving broadly through the air as she spoke. “He was meeting Heller in the woods.” She shot a look at Mary Margaret before she could say that they weren’t supposed to go near the forest. “He wanted to know if Heller had figured out a way past Fluffy and there was something about needing a piece of magic from him.”

“So Professor Heller is the only standing between Snape and the stone?” David snorted. “He’ll have it by next week.”

# # #

Now that the Mystery of the Thing beneath the trapdoor was solved, Mary Margaret moved on—to exams. She stopped to press her ear to the door on the third floor whenever they passed it and breathed a sigh of relief when she heard Fluffy's snores, but she blatantly refused to worry that a professor was plotting the theft of the most powerful object in the school.

"We've only got ten weeks," Mary Margaret declared, dragging all of them into the library.

Truly, she only had to drag Emma and David. Killian was determined to be at the head of the class. He wanted Liam to feel he hadn’t wasted money on all those books and supplies. His feelings at the beginning of term—the desire to stay home with his brother—seemed a distant memory. Now he couldn't imagine going back to a time when he didn't know Emma or David or Mary Margaret.  And chances were that he'd get to see quite a bit of Emma at least over the summer. The few details Killian provided in his letter appalled Liam and he replied that he would talk with Dumbledore and see what could be done about Emma's situation. She wouldn't be going back to the Dursleys if his brother had any say about it.

Which Killian considered as good as saying Emma would stay with them over the summer.

He was discussing that very fact with Emma over _One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi_ when he a thump and a shuffle caught both of their attention.

Hagrid had bumped into a table on his way past them.

"Hello, Hagrid," Killian said. "What are you doing in the library?"

Hagrid seemed to notice them for the first time and his eyes narrowed. "What am I doin'? I should ask what yer doin'... Not still looking for Nicholas Flamel, I 'ope."

"Oh, we already know who he is." David sat back, hands behind his head, textbook forgotten in his lap. "And we know that dog's guarding the Sorcer—"

"Shhhh!" Beneath his beard, Hagrid looked about the same color as a marshmallow and he was sweating a little around the hairline.

"We did have a few more questions," Emma said. "Like..."

"I said SHHHHH!" Hagrid hissed. He looked from Emma to David to Killian, even to Mary Margaret who had only glanced up from her books. "Listen— _if_ it'll end this nonsense, come see me later. I'm not promisin' to tell yeh nothin' mind...but yeh shouldn't be chatterin' about it here."

"Alright," Emma said, turning her thousand watt smile on him.

He turned away in an awkward, clumsy movement, trying to keep an object hidden behind his back.

Killian raised his eyebrows at Emma and David. "Is it just me, or was he hiding something?"

"Hold on," David said, hopping out of his chair, he caught the book in his lap just in time. "I'll be right back."

Killian got up to follow, but Mary Margaret tugged at his sleeve.

“He’d said he’ll be back,” she said, “and you two are supposed to be looking up the uses for dittany.”

Emma huffed and plopped down next to him.

David didn’t make them wait long. He came scurrying around the corner a few minutes later with more books in his arms than Killian had ever seen him carry before. He dropped them on the table with a thunk, catching even Mary Margaret's attention.

"Dragons!" he hissed.

Killian took a book from him, examining it. "So Hagrid likes dragons. It's not exactly surprising." After all, a dragon was only a few steps up from three-headed dogs.

In answer, David yanked one of the books from the stack, drawing an annoyed hiss from Mary Margaret as the rest tumbled on top of all their homework.

"Look!" David waved the book under Killian and Emma's noses.

Exasperated, Emma snatched it up, her eyes on the gold foil title. It read: _From Egg to Inferno, A Dragon Keeper's Guide_.

She shrugged. "Hagrid's always wanted a dragon. He told me so the day we met."

"It's illegal," Mary Margaret whispered.

"Yeah, dragon breeding was outlawed at the Warlocks' Convention of 1709." David glared at Mary Margaret, who looked surprised he knew such a specific fact. "What? I do know some things, you know."

"Of course you do," she replied in a tone that did nothing to contradict her surprise.

David threw one last dirty look at her and continued, "Anyways, can you imagine if every wizard..."

"Or witch." Mary Margaret added.

David sighed. “…or witch could have a dragon? Muggles would have known about us centuries ago. Kind of hard to keep a giant, fire-breathing lizard under control.”

“Well, he can’t have gotten a dragon’s egg if it was illegal,” Emma said, “so you’re worrying for nothing.”

Killian thought that sounded reasonable.

Just to be sure, they headed down to Hagrid’s hut later that afternoon.

Hagrid had a dragon.

Well, Hagrid had a dragon egg, sitting in his fireplace, blue and orange flames licking all around its sides. Killian caught a glance of it as the big man hurried the four of them into the hut. On such a warm day, the heat was stifling. He bustled about for a good while, until all four of them had a steaming tea cup in front of them. Killian took his more as something to hold than to drink... No way was he drinking that with the hut so hot.

"Stoat sandwich?" Hagrid asked, holding out a plate.

“No thanks,” Emma said, waving the plate away. “We just ate lunch. We’re all absolutely stuffed.”

Hagrid nodded, as though he expected that answer, and snagged a sandwich for himself. "Now, I think yeh had a question for me."

Well—” Killian started.

Emma cut him off. "What's guarding the sorcerer's stone besides Fluffy?"

Killian shot her a look, annoyed that she hadn't buttered Hagrid up a little first. Emma crossed her arms, staring up at Hagrid.

"Even if I could tell yeh that," he replied, "I wouldn't. You four don't need to be snoopin' around there anymore then yeh already have. The stone's here for good reason."

"Oh, of course," Mary Margaret said. Her teacup clinked against the plate as she set it down. "But surely you know something. After all, Dumbledore did trust you to bring the stone from Gringott's." She held up a hand as Hagrid started to deny. "We don't need to know the exact spells guarding the stone, we just were wondering who had a hand in doing the spells."

Hagrid, whose chest had swelled a little at the mention of Dumbledore's trust, narrowed his eyes at her, the gears turning in his mind. "I don't suppose that could hurt. Well, he borrowed Fluffy from me and he had some of the teachers whip up some enchantments." He rattled off a list of names, ticking each one off on fingers the size of sausages. “Let’s see…Professor Anton and good ol’ Doc. McGonagall o’ course and Professor Heller. Dumbledore did somthin’ himself and then—I’m fergettin’ someone. Oh, Professor Snape…”

"Snape?" Emma screeched.

" _Professor_ Snape. Yes." Now it was Hagrid's turn to cross his arms and look belligerent. "Don' tell me yer still on about that, Emma."

Killian exchanged a glance with Mary Margaret and David. The three of them clearly shared Emma’s thoughts. If Snape helped Dumbledore with the defenses, figuring out the other professors’ spells was probably a piece of cake. All but Heller's, it seemed.

Emma didn't push the issue.

"You're the only one that knows how to get past Fluffy, right?" At Hagrid's nod, she went on, "And you would never tell anyone else. Not even one of the other professors?"

"Course not," Hagrid rumbled. "Only other person that knows is Dumbledore."

She seemed to relax at that.

Mary Margaret, however, took that as her cue to go on the offensive. "Hagrid, how did you get a dragon egg?"

The big man jumped, knee knocking into the table as he tried, belatedly, to shift his chair in front of the fire. Mary Margaret tilted her head, lips pressed tight together. Killian recognized the look. David and Emma were often on the receiving end of it when they chose to goof off instead of studying.

"Won it," he mumbled, ducking away from Mary Margaret's judgment. "Las' night. Chap seemed to be grateful fer me to take it off his hands, if I'm honest."

"And you're trying to hatch it?"

Hagrid practically glowed.

 "Been doin' some readin'." He leaned across the hut and pulled a thick book from beneath his pillow. Killian struggled to read the title from this angle, but his friends’ eyes widened, so he had a good guess as to what it was about. "Got this outta the library. The mothers breathe on 'em, so I've gotta keep 'im in the fire and then when it hatches I gotta feed it brandy and chicken blood." He flipped the pages with delicacy, a surprising feat with such meaty fingers. "I've got a Norwegian Ridgeback. Rare breed, them."

He beamed at Mary Margaret.

She blinked at him, jaw agape.

"Hagrid," she said very slowly, "you live in a wooden house."

"Pshaw." Hagrid got up to stoke the fire again. "If I can handle Fluffy, I think I can handle a baby dragon."

And he turned away from her, humming as he stoked the fire. The four children finally gave in and said their goodbyes.

"Well, we tried," Mary Margaret huffed as they left the hut. "Now whatever happens is on his head alone."

"I wonder what it's like to have an easy life," David muttered as they trekked back up to the castle to the sound of Mary Margaret chattering about study schedules.

# # #

For the next several days, Mary Margaret refused to talk about Hagrid or the egg or the stone.

She refused to talk about anything, really, but what was on her color-coded exam review schedule. Any time Emma, Killian, or David brought up the dragon or the stone, she huffed and buried her nose deeper in her book. Killian found himself being dragged away from their books over and over again so they could have a conversation without Mary Margaret clearing her throat every few seconds.

She wasn't even phased when Hedwig appeared at breakfast a few days later with a note from Hagrid.

 _It's hatching_ , it read.

"We've just got Herbology," David said. "Sprout won't care if we skip."

"We're almost at the end of term," Mary Margaret snapped. "And you need all the lessons you can get if those essays you have me reading are any indication."

"Well, they'd be better if the professors didn't drown us in homework."

"I'm with Mary Margaret, mate," Killian said.

David looked at him like he'd grown a third head. "So you think the chance to watch a dragon hatch comes around on the regular?"

"Shhh!" Emma flicked her eyes at Regina, who was leaning toward their table, listening so hard it was a miracle her ears hadn't turned red.

Mary Margaret ignored David's needling and Emma eventually caved to her wisdom as well. Killian decided he might as well have skipped, though, he was so preoccupied with whether or not the dragon had hatched that he hardly heard a word Professor Sprout said.

As soon as the lesson was over, he, Emma, and David—Mary Margaret refused to go with them—rushed down to the hut and were greeted by a bright-eyed, red-faced Hagrid.

"Yer just in time," he said and ushered them inside quickly.

Through the deep cracks in the egg, Killian saw something moving, heard a clicking. He drew a chair up to the table and held his breath. The “something” inside the egg scraped against the shell and then it split open and a small, black dragon fell out of it with a _squelch_.

Emma raised an eyebrow, leaning into Killian. "It looks like a crumpled umbrella."

Killian hid his laugh behind his hand.

Hagrid dabbed at his eyes. “Isn’t he beautiful?”

“Hagrid, how fast do Norwegian Ridgebacks grow?” Killian asked, jumping back as the little dragon snapped at Hagrid’s fingers.

“Well—” Hagrid froze, staring behind Killian.

“What? What is it?”

“There was someone lookin’ through the window.”

Sure enough, when Emma, David, and Killian peeked out the window, they caught a familiar figure rushing back up the slope. Killian’s blood iced up, despite the sweltering heat.

“Regina,” Emma growled.


	7. Demons in the Dark

The next week of Killian’s life was dominated by the frenzied treks he and Emma and David made to Hagrid’s hut--several times a day--trying to talk Hagrid into setting the dragon free.

“What kind of person would I be if I sent him out in the world on his own? He’s just a baby,” he protested as the so-called “baby” set fire to the curtains. The dragon—who Hagrid had named Norbert—was quickly approaching the size of a large dog. Large enough, in fact, that Fang cowered under the table. Hagrid hastened to beat out the fire. “He couldn’t make it out there. Something’d make a meal of him.”

David shook his head, clearly about to say what they were all thinking—that most things would be more likely to run from Norbert than eat him—but Killian tugged on his sleeve, shaking his head. He had an idea. 

Ever the stubborn one, David tried to speak again.

Emma cut him off. “Well, we told Mary Margaret we’d meet her to study. Exams coming, you know.”

She grabbed David’s arm, practically hauling him off his feet and toward the door. Killian followed.

“Oi, Emma.” David shook her off as soon as they were outside. “What are you on? We’ve got to convince him to get rid of that thing before he gets caught.”

“I know,” Emma hissed. “But Killian has an idea.”

She said it like a fact, as if she read his mind.

“Not here,” Killian said, glancing around. He couldn’t see anyone watching as they trudged back up the hill to the castle, but few places felt safe after they caught Regina spying. “Let’s get inside.”

David and Emma followed him up the hill, wet grass clinging to the hems of their robes and scattering on the stone floor as they entered the castle.

“There you are!” Mary Margaret exclaimed as she caught side of them. Her satchel dug into her shoulder under the weight of all the books she was carrying. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you. Where were you?”

“Where do you think?” David asked.

Mary Margaret sighed, the force of her exasperation causing her bangs to floof up for a moment. “Really?”

“Yeah, really,” David shot back. “Do you want to see Hagrid get arrested?”

“Oh  _ course _ not,” she replied. “But there’s not much we can do about it.” She pulled her binder out of the bag. “However, we can do something about your grades. Let’s go.”

“No, Killian—“

“The library’s as good a place as any,” Killian said, already tugging David in that direction. Arguing with Mary Margaret would waste more time than simply traveling to the library. “And she’s right about your grades.”

“Hey! I make decent marks.”

“When you want to,” Mary Margaret grumbled.

The library was crowded when they arrived and Killian immediately regretted acquiescing. There were students at nearly every table.

Mary Margaret must have seen his look of dismay, because she said, “I know, it’s a bit crowded for my tastes, but the common room and the Great Hall are worse. I think we might be able to find a quiet spot in the stacks.”

“Then let’s go.” Emma barged into the library like she owned the place and the fact that no one looked up from their studies spoke volumes about the general attitude toward exams. Killian didn’t know any students that had gone as far as Mary Margaret—at least, none of the first years he knew had a color-coded binder thick enough to be used as a murder weapon—but nearly everyone was here studying right now.

Mary Margaret was right, however, there were entire sections empty in the stacks. Emma paused at three different rows before she finally picked one.

“This should be far enough away,” she said plunking down with her back to the musty books. “But I’d whisper.”

“I hardly think that’s necessary. It’s not like the answers aren’t there for everyone if they just crack open a book.” Mary Margaret dumped her bag next to Emma and set to pulling out her books. “Okay, now, History of Magic and Potions are the hardest, I think. So…”

“Actually, Mary Margaret--” Killian began.

“No, it’ll be a good cover,” Emma said. She, like all of them, practically slept with her school satchel at this point. Carefully, she pulled out her ink bottle and quill and several rolls of parchment.

Killian and David followed suit and soon all four of them were spread out on the floor, looking like the had quite the study session going. David had forgotten his History of Magic book, but Mary Margaret scooted over so that he could use hers. He thanked her and turned to Killian.

“So what’s this big idea?” he asked.

Emma leaned forward, nodding.

“What about Tom?” Killian asked, feeling a little odd with all that attention on him.

David’s nose crinkled. “Tom? Tom who?”

Emma smacked him. “Your brother, you dunce. You know, the one you claim works with dragons.”

“Exactly,” Killian said, twirling his quill nervously. “Do you think he could help?”

“Blimey, Killian, why didn’t I think about that?” He jumped to his feet, nearly tripping over his robes as he rushed off, throwing back, “I’ll write him straight away.”

Killian caught an ink bottle before it tipped completely over.

The sound of footsteps grew close again as David ran up to them again. “Emma can I borrow Hedwig? Better not trust this to a school owl."

“Sure.” Emma shrugged. She didn't exactly have much use for Hedwig at the moment. Killian used the owl more than she did, in fact.

He watched David race off—they heard Madam Pence hushing him all the way back where they were—and prayed that Tom would be able to help them. He wasn’t sure Hagrid’s hut would survive a  _ sixth  _ attempt to set it on fire.

Mary Margaret nodded in approval. “That was a really good idea, Killian.” And then, she started quizzing them from her History of Magic book, despite Emma’s pained groan.

The next few days crawled by stretching all of them thin. They searched for Hedwig every time the owls came in the morning, but snowy owl was nowhere to be seen.

“Romania’s a long way off,” David reassured them. “When we used to send Errol, it would take him weeks.”

“But that’s because Errol is very old, isn’t it?” Mary Margaret put in, giving David a look.

“Oh. Yes,” he said around a mouthful of pudding. “We hire an owl when we want to send stuff to Tommy now. Takes about a week.”

By Wednesday, Killian had convinced himself that not only had it been a horrible idea, but Hedwig had obviously got lost and that was his fault.

They were all watching the clock and not just because it was well past when they should be in bed. David had gone down to help Hagrid feed the dragon as it had become a two person job. It was so late that Emma, Killian, and Mary Margaret were the only ones left in the common room. As always, Mary Margaret had her head bent over a book, but Emma was pacing in front of the fireplace.

“What if it’s eaten him?” she asked, turning to the two of them.

“Don’t be ridiculous, Emma,” Mary Margaret said without looking up. “Hagrid wouldn’t let it come to that.”

“You want to bet?” David stood in the open portrait door, cradling his hand with a sour look on his face. He marched over, holding his hand out to them. A bloody handkerchief was wrapped around it. “It bit me! I won’t be able to hold a quill for a week.” He flounced down into an armchair. “That dragon is the most horrible animal I have ever met, but Hagrid talks about like it’s the sweetest little thing you ever saw. He actually told me off for frightening it.”

“You should get that looked at,” Mary Margaret said. She closed her book, coming over to examine David’s hand.

He snatched it away before she could touch it. “It’s just a scratch.”

“Then why are you making such a big fuss?” she demanded.

“For the principle of the thing.”

All four of them jumped at the tap on the window.

Killian looked over, not sure what he expected—Regina on her broom, maybe, spying yet again—but when he saw the flutter of white through the pane, he jumped to his feet.

“Hedwig!” Emma darted across the room and yanked the window open. Her owl glided in, doing a neat turn before she settled on Emma’s arm, holding out her leg. A letter was tied round it. Emma quickly untied it and sent Hedwig off to the owlery. “Thanks, girl. I’ll come up with a treat in the morning.”

By that time, Killian and the others were already crowded around her, leaning over Emma’s shoulder to read the letter.

_ Dear David, _

_ How are you? Thanks for the letter—I’d be glad to take the Norwegian Ridgeback, but it won’t be easy getting him here. I think the best thing will be to send him over with some friends of mine who are coming to visit me again next week. Trouble is, they mustn’t be seen carrying an illegal dragon. Could you get the Ridgeback up the tallest tower at midnight on Saturday? They can meet you there and take him away while it’s still dark. Send me an answer as soon as possible. _

_ Love, _

_ Tom _

David, Killian, and Emma all looked at each other.

“Do you think we can do it?” David asked.

“We’ve got my invisibility cloak,” Emma said, fiddling with a curl. “It’s big enough, I think.”

Killian shook his head. “For two people and a dragon maybe, but not for all four of us.”

“Oh no,” Mary Margaret said. She snapped her book closed and began rolling up her parchment with crisp motions. “I’m not getting involved in this. Hagrid is a grown up, it’s not our job to fix his messes.”

“But Mary Margaret…”

“No. The three of you can risk your academic careers if you like, but I’m going to do the smart thing.” She hesitated, lips pressed tight together as her eyes fell on each of them. In the silence, the popping of the fire sounded loud as gunshots. “Good night.”

Emma and David watched her go before meeting each other’s eyes.

“Killian,” Emma said, drawing his name out like she had something unpleasant to say, “I think the two people should be me and David.”

“No!” Killian winced as he voice echoed through the mostly empty room. “It’s my idea. If you get in trouble, it’ll be my fault.”

“I know. I know.” She touched his hand. “But, Killian, you have the most to lose. I know how much being here means to you.”

Killian swallowed. There was no denying the cold pit that had been in his stomach since Mary Margaret hinted at expulsion. Liam needed him to stay in school. But Emma couldn’t take the dragon to the astronomy tower by herself. The choice should have been easy, but Killian felt like his heart was been torn right down the middle.

“Emma’s right,” David said with a shrug. He leaned back, keeping his wounded hand propped up on the couch. “If she or I get expelled, it’s not a big deal.” He paused. “Well, my mom will think it’s a big deal, but I don’t think I care much.”

“It was  _ my  _ idea.”

“And it’s my cloak!” Emma said.

“And Tom is my brother,” David added.

Killian looked between them and sighed. Emma had that look in her eye, the one that said she would rather hurtle toward the ground face first than concede defeat.

“Fine,” he grumbled. He got up and stomped upstairs, ignoring David’s quieter footsteps behind him.

# # #

Killian had every intention of being angry with them in the morning, but one look at David’s white face changed his mind for him.

David’s hand looked truly awful. It was all pink and had swelled to twice its normal size.

“You need to go see Madam Pomfrey,” Killian hissed so that their other roommates wouldn’t overhear them.

David’s eyes went wide. “I can’t do that. She might recognize--” He snapped his mouth shut, eyes darting to their roommate Will, who was eyeing them suspiciously. “You know. What did this.”

Killian tugged at his bangs. “Maybe Mary Margaret can help.”

“No! She’ll force me to go to Madam Pomfrey.” David rewrapped his hand hastily. “It’s not bad, Killian, it just hurts.”

It did hurt very much if the straight line of David’s lips were any indication. As the day progressed, they pressed tighter and tighter until David barely had a mouth at all. His color didn’t improve any, either. Finally, Mary Margaret cornered him after lunch, demanding to see his hand. All four of them huddled together as she took a peek. Killian had a hard time keeping his lunch down when he saw the cut. It had turned from an angry--but healthy--pink to a putrid green in a matter of hours.

“Poison is my guess,” Mary Margaret muttered. “You have to go the hospital wing, David.”

David didn’t even protest. “Yeah, I think I better. You three go to class.”

“Are you sure?” Emma asked.

David nodded. “Yeah. I’ll run up there, drink something foul, and be set to rights in no time. No reason for you three to miss class.”

The next two periods were torture. By the time they had gotten to the end of their second class, David hadn’t shown back up. Killian was convinced that that shade of green could only mean that the poison had spread too far for the hand to be salvaged—and it would all be Killian’s fault for not convincing him to go to the infirmary sooner. Or David had collapsed on the way and lay unconscious in a random hallway and that was Killian’s fault, too. He should have gone with him.

At the end of their last class, Killian shoved all of his things into the bag, eschewing his usual care. He winced as he threw a book in the bag after his quill, hoping that he hadn’t just broken the thing. He only had two. Across the aisle, Emma performed a similar ritual, though in her case this was the way she usually packed up after class.

“Are you ready?” she asked, slinging her bag over her shoulder.

“Ready for what?” Regina asked. “Going somewhere, you two?”

Emma’s shoulders stiffened. “If we were, it’d be none of your business, Regina.”

The other girl smiled, her eyes dark. She shrugged. “Fine, be that way.”

She spun on her heel, flouncing out of the classroom far more than the situation warranted.

“Do you think she knows what happened to David?” Emma asked.

“Nah. How would she?”

She did.

When they reached the hospital wing, Regina was leaving, her books tucked in the crook of her arm. She flipped her hair over her shoulder as she passed them, smirking.

Emma stumbled to a stop, watching her go, waiting until she was out of sight to ask, “What do you think that was about?”

“Maybe she has a friend here, too?” Killian shrugged. He just wanted to make sure that David was okay and not dying some horrific death.

It was quite calm in the hospital wing, with its tall windows and white-swathed beds. Clean and quiet, not at all what Killian expected from a hospital. Though, he only had experience with one, so he supposed he wasn’t really an expert.

David was in a bed about halfway down on the right and, to Killian’s eye, he was  _ not  _ dying a horrific death. However, he wasn’t exactly okay. His eyes stretched wide as saucers and he still looked pale as a ghost. Killian thought it was because he was still in pain, but David quickly disabused both of them of that notion.

“Regina was here,” he hissed as soon as Emma and Killian made it over. “She stopped by to ‘borrow’ one of my books—well, she really stopped by to make fun of me, but she kept threatening to tell Madam Pomfrey what really bit me. I told her it was dog, but I know she doesn’t believe me." He gestured helplessly at the empty table. "I gave her one of my books just so Madam Pomfrey would make her leave."

Emma sat in the chair next to the bed with a smile. “That’s alright, I’m sure you can borrow a copy from one of us.”

David flushed bright pink. "I kind of was using Tom's note as a bookmark."

Killian groaned, tilting his head back. "Which means Regina has it."

"Yeah." David picked at the bandage on his hand, refusing to meet their eyes.

"Well, it's too late to change anything," Emma said.

"Emma..." Killian didn't know what to say. He knew they were on thin ice already. Norbert wouldn't fit in that tiny hut much longer, but Regina had all the ammunition she needed to get them expelled.

"Do you have a better idea, Killian?" she asked. "It's Thursday. We're supposed to be on top of the astronomy tower with Norbert on Saturday. There's no way an owl can make it in that amount of time. And more letters just increase our chance of getting caught."

"Then let Hagrid take him up there," Killian protested. “Mary Margaret is right, it’s his mess to fix.”

David scoffed. "If we left it up to Hagrid, that dragon would eat him out of hut and home."

"Killian, it’s alright. I’m sure that David will be fine by Saturday. You can still stay out of it." The words were harsh, but Emma laid a hand on Killian's arm and smiled a little. She understood.

Killian studied David’s hand in its bulky bandages. "No, better not to risk it with that hand, mate. I'm still in."

"Don't worry," she said brightly. "We'll be fine."

The sinking feeling in Killian's stomach told him otherwise, but he wouldn't let her do this alone.

# # #

“Yer late,” Hagrid said as he let them into the hut on Saturday night. He eyed them disapprovingly.

“Peeves,” Emma said and that was the end of the matter.

“Ah, well, I guess I shouldn’t complain,” he said, placing his hand on a big wooden crate. “Gave us a bit more time together.” Something moved inside the crate and there was a flash of snapping teeth. “Got lots o’ rats and brandy in there. Tide ‘im over for the journey.” He cleared his throat, sniffling a little. “An’…an’ his teddy bear’s in there.”

There came a rip from inside the crate.

_ Better the bear than our fingers _ , Killian thought as they threw the invisibility cloak over the crate.

He wasn’t even sure he and Emma would be able to lift it on their own, it was nearly as tall as they were. But, baby dragons, it turned out, didn’t weigh much. Even if they were the size of a large dog. Once he and Emma were under the cloak, the most difficult part of lifting the crate was that it was bulky.

And there was a baby dragon inside, shifting all over the place as he murdered his teddy bear.

“Bye-bye, Norbert,” Hagrid called in a tearful voice. “Mommy will never forget you.”

By the time they reached the castle, Norbert had tired of the teddy and, as far as Emma and Killian could tell, had decided to take a nap. Which was very lucky, because as they reached the corridor to the astronomy tower there was a scuffle ahead of them.

Killian and Emma pressed close to the wall, hoping the shadows would hide them. Killian braced himself for the shout until he remembered they wore the invisibility cloak. Then he switched to praying that Norbert wouldn’t wake up and start growling.

The two figures in the corridor came closer, the lamplight revealing the oddest sight Killian had ever seen.

Professor McGonagall with her hair done up in a net and wearing a tartan bathrobe.

“Detention!” she exclaimed, drawing Killian’s attention to the squirming student with McGonagall’s fingers pinched tight around their ear.

It was Regina. He had been so taken up with the sight of McGonagall in something beside her heavy witches robes that he hadn’t recognized Regina at first, but it was her, stretching up onto her tiptoes and grimacing in pain.

“And twenty points from Slytherin!” McGonagall continued. “Wandering around in the middle of the night, how dare you—”

“You don’t understand, Professor,” Regina said. “Emma Swan’s coming—she’s got a dragon!”

“What utter rubbish! Lies! Come with me, Malfoy, we shall see Professor Snape about you!” She hustled Regina ahead of her, the light of her lamp fading quickly down the hall and around the corner. “I hope you enjoy, detention, Miss Malfoy.”

Killian wanted to crow, but he bit his lip instead.

He and Emma made up the stairs without a hitch, both of them a little elated after their near miss. As soon as they’d broken out into the cool night air, Killian threw the hood back from his face. 

He grinned at Emma. “Regina’s got detention. I could sing!”

“Don’t,” Emma advised, but she was grinning, too.

The two of them settled for chuckling silently as they waited for Tom’s friends. It didn’t take long. They swooped in out of the darkness ten minutes later. They were a cheery lot who gladly showed Emma and Killian the harness they would be carrying Norbert in. Killian took mental notes, sure that Hagrid would want to know the details. It took all of them to wrestle Norbert into the thing and get him buckled in. Then they shook hands with Emma and Killian and they were off.

Emma and Killian watched them fly off with Norbert and didn’t feel the least bit sad to see the dragon go.

“Let’s go to bed,” Emma murmured.

Still a little giddy, the two of them headed back down the spiral staircase. Killian didn’t think anything could spoil his mood tonight.

“Well, well, well,” a dry, raspy voice said as they reached the bottom of the stairs.

They froze, eyes widening in horror as Filch stepped out of the shadows, a leer stretching from ear to ear.

“We  _ are  _ in trouble.”

Emma clutched at her shoulders and gulped. The invisibility cloak was sitting at the top of the stairs.

The old caretaker shot forward, taking each of them by an arm. “We’ll see what Professor McGonagall has to say about this. What a night. What a night.” He kept muttering all the way down to the first floor, where he deposited them in front of the professor’s study to wait.

“This can’t possibly get any worse,” Emma said.

Killian nodded, his fingers picking at the cuff of this shirt. He kept trying to think of something— _ anything— _ that would explain their presence in the astronomy tower without getting them in trouble. But he knew that astronomy class was the only time students were allowed up there.

Professor McGonagall appeared a few minutes later and she had Mary Margaret in tow.

“Emma! Killian!” she said as soon as she saw them. “I was trying to warn you. I heard Regina bragging that she was going to catch you. I told you this would happen!”

“Am I to understand, Ms. Blanchard, that you knew they were planning this little excursion and you didn’t say a word?” Professor McGonagall propped her hands on her hips, glaring down at all three of them. Even the tartan robe failed to soften her glare. She looked remarkably like Norbert before he set something on fire. “I would never have believed it—especially of you two,” she pointed first to Killian and then to Mary Margaret, “if I didn’t have the proof before me. Now,  _ explain yourselves. _ ”

Not even Mary Margaret answered.

“I think I know what’s going on here,” the professor said. “It’s apparent to anyone with a brain that you fed Regina Malfoy some cock-and-bull story about a dragon, trying to get her out and into trouble. Don’t deny it, I’ve already caught her. I suppose you think it’s funny that Ms. Blanchard heard the story, too.”

Mary Margaret pressed her lips together and stared Emma down.

Professor McGonagall shook her head. “Four students out of bed in one night! I’ve never heard of such a thing before! Detentions for all three of you—yes, even you, Ms. Blanchard, nothing gives you the right to walk around the school at night, especially with all the things that have happened this semester and fifty points will be taken from Gryffindor.”

“ _ Fifty _ ?” Emma’s voice went all high and screechy.

Killian’s stomach sank. Fifty points would lose them the lead that Emma had just risked death to get them.

“Fifty points,” Professor McGonagall said, her nostrils flaring with each inhale. “Each.”

They tried to argue her down, but she wouldn’t hear of it. She sent them off to bed, her voice growing cold and chilly.

# # #

Mary Margaret refused to speak to Killian and Emma all the next day, though she deemed David fit for conversation.

She wasn't the only Gryffindor chuffed with them. Every single student in the school noticed the drop in Gryffindor’s points and more than a few Gryffindors went up to the teachers to point out the mistake. Professor McGonagall must have set everyone to rights because, by lunch time, everyone knew it was Emma Swan and a couple of other first years that cost them all those points.

"I wouldn't worry about it," David said. "Happy's lost tons of points getting into trouble with Leroy. They'll get over it."

"Have they ever lost us a hundred and fifty points in one go, though?" Emma asked, poking sullenly at her food.

Killian nudged her with his elbow. "Dave's right, Swan. And besides, you've still got us."

She smiled wanly.

"Seriously, Emma," David said around a mouthful of muffin, "what's got you so glum?"

Emma glanced left and right, before shoving her bowl aside. "I heard Heller this morning, as I was passing one of the classrooms. Pleading, like he was in a lot of pain and then… he agreed to something."

"To what?"

She shrugged. "I don't know, he just said, 'All right, all right...’" She let that hang in the air for several seconds. "I'd bet twelve Sorcerer's Stones that Snape has everything he needs now."

Killian shook his head. "He still doesn't know how to get past Fluffy. Hagrid won't tell anyone that."

"David," Mary Margaret said, placing her spoon on the table, "you should tell Emma that she needs to go to Dumbledore. Like we should have done ages ago."

"We've got no proof!" Emma snapped. "You think Heller will back us up? He's terrified of Snape. Dumbledore will just think I made it up because Snape is so awful to me—that I just want to get him sacked."

"Then we'll find proof. If we just do a bit of poking around..." David started, but Killian cut him off.

"I think we've done enough poking around, mate," he said, pushing away from the table and picking up his astronomy books. "Poking around is what cost Gryffindor the house cup."

David looked to Emma, eyes imploring her to say something and Killian knew that if she did say something, he would be right behind her, regardless of what he wanted.

"No." Emma sighed. "We've done enough. It's not our problem."

Mary Margaret threw her hands in the air. "Finally!"

She nearly hit the owl trying to deliver a small slip of paper. The little barn owl screeched and dropped the note in her breakfast, flying away with an agitated swish of its tail feathers.

Emma and Killian got similar notes. Detention at eleven at that evening.

"With Filch," Emma groaned.

Filch chuckled with glee at their dejected faces when they showed up at the entrance hall. "Think twice about breaking the rules again, now, won't you?" He led them outside, mumbling about chains and thumb screws.

Even Regina looked miserable as they trekked down the hill. Killian realized where they were going quickly and nudged Emma, who walked with her head bowed.

"Look," he said, pointing to Hagrid's hut.

Hagrid stood outside with his dog Fang and a crossbow nearly tall as Killian.

"Abou' time," he said as they approached. "Yer half an hour late, Filch. Emma, Killian, Mary Margaret." He nodded at each of them in turn.

Filch sneered. "You shouldn't be too friendly with this lot, Hagrid, they're meant to be punished." He glared at each of them in turn. “I’ll be back at sunrise for what’s left of them.”

Hagrid snorted. “I’ll take over from here.” 

He started toward the forest.

“I’m not going in there,” Regina whined.

“Yeh are if yeh want ter stay at Hogwarts,” Hagrid said.

“If my mother knew I was doing this she’d—“

“Tell yeh this is how it’s done at Hogwarts.” Hagrid turned around to glare at Regina. “Yeh did wrong and now yer payin’ fer it. If yeh’d  rather be expelled go back up there and start packin’.”

Regina stared back at Hagrid for a very long moment before finally dropping her gaze.

Emma covered her mouth with her hand and, Killian might have imagined it, but he thought he saw Mary Margaret smile briefly.

“Now that that’s settled…” Hagrid led them into the forest, keeping up a continuous litany of things in the forest that were dangerous.

Not that he needed to. The trees were so old and broad that even holding hands the five of them couldn’t reach around. Roots kept tripping Killian up. And, every now and then, he thought he heard the heavy tread of some giant creature. Hagrid stopped at the foot of a tree, pointing at a silvery substance on the ground. “See that? That’s unicorn blood. There’s a unicorn out there been hurt badly by summat. This is the second time in a week. We’re gonna try an’ find the poor thing. Put it out of it’s misery if we have ter.”

“And what if the thing hunting the unicorn gets us first.” Regina shivered, her arms wrapped tightly around her.

“Yer fine as long’s yer with me or Fang. An’ keep ter the path. Now, we’ll have teh split up. One group with me and one with Fang…”

“I want Fang!” Regina snapped, eyeing the dog’s long teeth.

“All right,” Hagrid said with a shrug. “But I warn yeh, he’s a bloody coward.” He lifted his lantern, indicating the left path. “Me, Emma, an’ Killian will go this way. And Mary Margaret, you, Regina, an’ Fang will go that way.” He swung his lantern to right path, this one just as dark and forbidding as the first. “Now, if yeh find the unicorn, I want yeh the send up green sparks with yer wands. And red sparks if yeh get in trouble. Get yer wands out and do a quick practice. That’s it. Be careful. Let’s go.”

He handed Fang’s leash to Mary Margaret. She took it with steady hands, holding it close to her chest as she and Regina started down their path. Killian and Emma followed Hagrid in silence, scanning the ground for more drops of the silvery blood. It flashed here and there in the moonlight. On a mossy stump. A crumbling boulder. A fallen tree.

"What could be killing the unicorns?" Killian asked as they tramped in Hagrid's giant footprints.

"Something fast and powerful," Hagrid growled. In the darkness he sounded very frightening and Killian had to remind himself that this was the same man who had cried over a baby dragon and called a three-headed dog Fluffy. "Have ter be ter catch a unicorn."

"A werewolf, maybe?" Killian asked softly, trying to think of the powerful creatures he'd read about.

"Not fast enough."

All of a sudden, Hagrid grabbed one of them in each massive hand and dodged behind a tree.

"Who's there?" he called, fitting an arrow to his crossbow. "I'm armed!"

Killian's jaw dropped as the tall figure came into view. At first, he thought it was a man mounted on a horse, but that wasn't quite right—as the moonlight fell on the newcomer it showed a man’s body joined at the waist with the body of a horse.

_ A centaur _ , Killian thought in awe.

“Ronan, it’s just you,” Hagrid said, lowering his crossbow. And then he walked up and shook the centaur’s hand.

"Oh," Emma murmured, "Mary Margaret's gonna be mad she missed this."

“Good evening to you, Hagrid,” Ronan said. He had a deep voice, like a slow stream in a quiet wood. There was a sadness in it. Like he’d seen far too much. He tilted his head at the sight of the crossbow. “Were you going to shoot me?”

“There’s sommat nasty in these woods, Ronan. Sommat that don’t belong here.” He toed a patch of bright blood on the ground. “Been killin’ unicorns. Oh, Ronan, this is Emma Swan and Killian Jones, by the way. Students at the school. This is Ronan, you two. He’s a centaur.”

Killian opened his mouth, but no sound came out.

“We noticed,” Emma quipped.

“Do you learn much, up at your school?” Ronan asked her.

Emma shrugged.

Ronan nodded like she gave him a long, thought out answer. He sighed, his eyes searching upward. Killian followed his gaze, straining to see something through the thick canopy. It just looked like a great dark jumble to him.

Centaur eyes must have been better than human ones, because Ronan declared, “Mars is bright tonight.”

“Yeah,” Hagrid said in much the same tone that Emma used when Mary Margaret talked about her study charts. “Listen, Ronan, you got any idea what’s been comin’ after these unicorns?”

Ronan kept staring at the sky. “Always the innocent are the first victims.”

Hagrid sighed. “Yeah. But have you seen anythin’ unusual.”

“Mars is bright tonight,” Ronan repeated. “Unusually bright.”

A crunch and a rustle sounded from the direction Ronan had come from. Killian’s hand tightened around his wand as Hagrid brought the crossbow up again. Another centaur melted out of the darkness, His horse body shifting in and out of the light.

“Hullo, Bane,” Hagrid said. “All right?”

Bane—and that was an ominous name if Killian ever heard one—paused next to Ronan, searching the canopy as well.

“Mars is bright tonight,” he said finally.

“We’ve heard,” grumbled Hagrid. He sighed. “Right then, if either of you do see anythin’ unusual a bit closer to home, let me know, won’t yeh?” Eyes on Killian and Emma, he jerked his head further down the path. When they had gone far enough that the children couldn’t catch glimpses of the centaurs over their shoulders, Hagrid said, “Ruddy stargazers. Not interested in anythin’ closer n’ the moon. No use when yeh need a straight answer outta ‘em.”

The skin on the back of Killian’s neck prickled as they kept walking. He missed the moon and the stars and the world beyond their flickering lanterns. His room and his bed were the only thing he wanted at the moment. He even missed David’s snoring.

Spotty red light cut through the darkness, bouncing off trees far in the distance.

“Hagrid! Look!” Emma said, tugging on the big man’s sleeve.

Hagrid went all still. “You two stay here. I'll come back for yeh." And he crashed off into the underbrush, his crossbow up at his shoulder.

"Do you think they've been hurt?" Emma whispered.

Killian shook his head before realizing she was looking at everything but him. He didn't blame her, without Hagrid the darkness pressed in around them and his only thought was of the unnamed something out there taking down unicorns.

"I hope not," he said.

"Me too." She paused. "Well, Regina I couldn't care less about, but Mary Margaret's only in this because she was trying to warn us."

"Yeah."

Something cracked nearby, making them both jump. Emma's cold fingers curled around Killian's. At school, he might had shaken her off, but here he held on tight and tried to breathe around the fear.

A thunderous crashing came their way. Several somethings tromping through the woods. His eyes shot to Emma, who looked back with wide, wide eyes. She took a breath as they faced whatever was coming at them. Together they raised their wands.

It was Hagrid and the others.

Emma let out a long sigh. Killian chuckled under his breath.

They both realized they were holding hands at the same time and let go.

"Mary Margaret, you'll stay with Killian an' me fer now," Hagrid said moodily. "Emma you go with Fang an' this idiot." He jerked his head at Regina. "Apparently, she thought it'd be a great joke to sneak up behind Mary Margaret and scare the life outta her. Be lucky if we find anything now."

Hagrid was far less talkative this time around, muttering under his breath as Killian and Mary Margaret followed. She trudged along, her head hanging, arms wrapped around her ribs. He thought he should say something. It wasn't her fault her cousin was an ass, after all.

Before he could, though, someone screamed.

Hagrid whipped around, crossbow jerking up in the direction of the ruckus.

"Stay here," he barked and took off.

Killian ignored him, wand held at the ready as he tried to keep up. After a moment, he heard Mary Margaret puffing right along next to him.

The other two girls had covered quite a bit of distance in the hour or so since everyone changed partners, so they were too far ahead for Killian to tell if Emma or Regina was screaming. Every now and then the screams would be punctuated by the bay of the boarhound.

At last they met a babbling Regina.

“Oh shut up fer a minute and tell us what’s the matter,” snapped Hagrid.

Regina hiccupped, her voice shaking. “A big, black thing…I—I don’t know what it is. But it had the unicorn—it’s dead, Hagrid, the thing was drinking its blood.”

“And where’s Emma?”

Regina glanced behind, as though realizing for the first time that Emma wasn’t with her.

Hagrid lifted his crossbow. “Now, yer gonna show me—”

“No, no, please,” Regina sobbed. “Please don’t make me go back there.”

“There’s another child back there that might need help,” Hagrid said. “Now, buck up and do yer house proud.” He let go of the crossbow long enough to push her forward.

Whimpering, Regina led them back down the path. The lantern rattled so badly in her hand that Killian took it from her, glad to have something to do. A clammy sweat clung to his skin, his heart pounding in his ears. He hoped Emma was alright. He needed Emma to be alright. She was his friend. He couldn't imagine sitting through Professor Doc’s lectures without her doodling in her notebook. Or sitting at the table in the Great Hall with only Mary Margaret and David. He had never known someone who died before. Well, his father was dead, but that didn't really count, Killian was only a baby when that happened. He didn't remember it.

The sound of hooves echoed ahead of them, two voices mingling softly among the trees.

"Do you mean," whispered a hoarse voice that Killian recognized instantly, "that was Rum—"

"Emma!" Killian called out, ignoring Hagrid's warning as he took off down the path. "You’re alright!"

He pulled up short as the light hit an expanse of palomino coat and then a torso and finally an unfamiliar face.

"I'm fine," Emma said, her head popping out from behind the lean, muscled chest. "Thanks, Firenze." She slipped down and held her hand out to the young centaur.

The centaur blinked at her hand, tilting his head this way and that. "This where I leave you, Emma Swan. Remember what I've said."

"I will." She waved as Firenze cantered off. When she turned back to them, her face was grim. "The unicorn's in that clearing back there, Hagrid, if you want to go look. It's dead."

By the time they got back to the common room, Killian thought he might be sleep-walking. He almost stumbled right by David, who slept curled up in one of the armchairs. Emma didn't miss him, though.

"Foul! Foul! No blagging," David muttered when she shook him roughly awake.

"I know why Snape wants the stone," she hissed.

Killian froze.

Mary Margaret groaned. "Emma can we please just go to bed?"

"He's trying to get it for Rumplestiltskin," Emma went on. "He's waiting in the forest. Rumplestiltskin is what's killing the unicorns..."

"Stop saying that name," David snapped.

"Please," Killian added.

But Emma hardly seemed to hear them. She rambled on, sparing no details as she told them of her encounter with the creature—who she insisted was Rumplestiltskin to everyone's growing dismay—and the centaurs.

“Firenze saved me, obviously, though he shouldn’t have. Bane was furious…something about interfering with the planets—I guess they show that Rumplestiltskin’s coming back and Bane thinks Firenze should have just let Rumplestiltskin…”

“ _ Stop saying that name!” _  David’s face had gone white as a ghost’s, but Emma just plunged on.

"Of course, it won’t matter once Snape steals the stone, Rumplestiltskin will be able to come and finish me off and—"

"Emma," Mary Margaret cut in and finally snapped Emma out of it. "Everyone knows that  _ You-Know-Who _ is afraid of Dumbledore. He won't come near the castle as long as Dumbledore is here. Even if the centaurs are right, he can't hurt you."

“You didn’t hear what they were saying, Mary Margaret.”

The talked round and round in circles. None of their assurances placated Emma, and Killian's ears felt ready to burn with how many times she mentioned You-Know-Who's name. As the sky began to lighten, Emma gave a great yawn and announced that she was going to bed. Mary Margaret murmured comforting words as they tromped up the stairs.

Killian followed after David, wondering what it must be like to only have final exams to worry about. Surely none of his other housemates had to worry their best friend might not make it to the end of the term.


	8. An Underground Adventure

Killian woke on the first morning of exam week convinced that today would be the day. Between every class he ran up to the third floor corridor with the others and pressed his ear to the door as always, listening for snores or the scrape of claws against stone. But as the week wore on and nothing happened, the dread that had followed him since the encounter in the forest loosened its hold. He fell more and more on Mary Margaret's side.

With two of them against her and David cringing every time she said You-Know-Who's name, Emma dropped the subject even though it was obvious she still thought about it.

"No more studying," David said Friday afternoon as they left their last exam. He snatched Killian's exam papers away, but thought better of doing the same to Mary Margaret when she glared at him. "Oh don't look so glum, you three. We've got a whole week until we know how badly we've done… Now, we're going outside and we're putting away all the books until Monday."

Mary Margaret sighed and stuffed her things back into her satchel. "Fine. I suppose we've earned a break."

David got a sly look in his eye. As they approached the main doors, he grabbed Mary Margaret’s hand and darted outside with a whoop. She let out a shout of protest, clutching at her bag with one hand, but when David let go of her hand and kept running she chased after him with a smile on her face. A slightly manic smile, but a smile nonetheless.

“What do you think happens if she catches him?” Emma asked.

Killian shrugged. “Dunno.”

She nodded, rubbing at her scar. She snatched her hand away when she caught him looking and ran off after the others before he could ask her about it. As always, Killian followed.

By the time they caught up to David and Mary Margaret, the other two had slowed back to a walk, heading for the lake. They wandered around for a bit. Every so often, David would scoop up a promising rock and try skipping it across the surface. When the heat became overwhelming, the four of them flopped down under one of the willows. There was no breeze but the shade transformed the heat into something bearable, something sleepy.

They all stretched out and stared up at the long leaves. All of them except for Emma, whose fingers found her scar and began worrying at it.

"You alright, Swan?" Killian asked.

"I wish I knew what this means,” she growled, pressing hard at the little pink mark.

He snatched her hand away. "Careful, you'll rub it raw."

"Emma, relax," David said, reaching his hands beneath his head. "Stone’s safe as long as Dumbledore's around and no one is getting past that dog."

"Yeah," Killian added, "Hagrid would never betray Dumbledore like that. Even if he's a bit too trusting of Snape..." Killian shuddered. He still had goosebumps from their Potions exam. The dour professor spent the entire exam going from student to student, hovering over each of them, making them feel like they’d taken the very Forgetfulness potion they were supposed to be brewing.

“No, I suppose not.” Emma sat bolt upright. "Unless..."

Mary Margaret sighed. "Emma..."

But Emma was already off, robes trailing behind her as she took off for the forest.

With a glance at Mary Margaret, Killian got his feet, brushing grass from his robes as she pulled on David's sleeve. Grumbling, David rolled to his feet and the three of them hurried after Emma. Her destination was clear enough, her sights set on Hagrid's hut so intensely that Killian hoped she didn’t set it aflame with her eyes.

She glanced back at them as they caught up. “Don't you find it suspicious that what Hagrid wants more than anything else is a dragon and a stranger turns up who just happens to have a dragon egg in his pocket?"

Emma barged right up to Hagrid’s door and slammed her fist on it several times.

She received, “Round back!” in answer.

With that same single-minded fury, Emma led them to the back of the hut.

If he noticed the look on Emma’s face, Hagrid didn’t show it.

“Hullo," Hagrid said as they came into view. He tossed an empty pea pod to the growing pile behind him and reached for another. "Got time fer a drink?"

"No, not really," Emma said. "Hagrid, what did the stranger you were playing cards with look like?"

"Dunno," Hagrid replied, popping a pea open. "Wouldn't take off his cloak."

"And did you tell him anything about Hogwarts?"

Hagrid frowned, his hands stilling. "Mighta come up."

The sun felt a hundred times hotter as Killian’s mind finally caught up to Emma's. His heart sank into his stomach.

“Well…” Hagrid paused, eyes narrowed in concentration. "I told him I was gamekeeper here an' he asked about the creatures I look after… which I told him… an’ he told me he had a dragon egg on him and we could play fer it if I thought I could handle it.” Hagrid scoffed. “I told him after Fluffy a dragon would be easy...."

"And did he seem interested in Fluffy?" Emma leaned forward, her weight on the balls of her feet. She held her breath

"Well, it's not everyday yeh meet someone who knows about three-headed dogs,” Hagrid said, looking slightly offended. “I tol' him they're no trouble if you play them a bit o' music, calms 'em right down." Hagrid clapped a giant hand over his mouth. "I shouldn'ta told yet that!"

He had to yell because as soon as she heard the word music, Emma had sprinted off, racing up the hill like her life depended on it.

 _And it just might_ , Killian thought as he took off after her.

The Great Hall was cool, turning the sweat on Killian’s back to ice moments after they entered. They all paused, gulping in great lungfuls of air. Emma recovered first, shoving her hair back from her face, though bits of it still clung to her red cheeks.

"Mary Margaret," she said, whirling on the girl in question, "where's Dumbledore's office?"

Bewildered, Mary Margaret shook her head. “I have no idea.”

Emma frowned, but the frown didn’t last long. She pushed past David.

“Professor McGonagall.” Still panting, Emma ran up to the professor. "We need to see Professor Dumbledore. It's important."

"Goodness, Miss Swan, what's the matter?" Professor McGonagall eyed Emma over her wire-rimmed spectacles.

Emma’s eyes darted to the staircase. "Uh… it's kind of a secret."

Professor McGonagall's nostrils flared a little and Killian found himself very glad Emma was the one talking to her and not him.

"Professor Dumbledore left ten minutes ago," McGonagall said in a stony voice. "The Ministry of Magic sent him an urgent owl."

"He's gone?" Emma's voice sounded as steady as Killian felt. "Now?"

McGonagall looked down her long nose, waiting.

"Professor," Mary Margaret said, stepping up next to Emma, "It's about the Sorcerer's Stone..."

"And what do you know about that?" Professor's McGonagall's voice got all high-pitched as she spoke, her eyes wide behind her glasses.

"We just—we do," Emma said, "and I think Sn—I think someone is going to try to steal the Stone tonight. I really need to talk to Professor Dumbledore."

Professor McGonagall pressed her lips together, studying Emma for a long time. Finally, she shook out the sleeves of her robes, adjusting the cuffs with an air of indifference.

"Professor Dumbledore will be back tomorrow," she announced. "And as for the Stone, I don't know how you found out about that, but it is quite well protected, I assure you." She placed her hands on Emma's shoulders and steered her back toward the door. "Now, go. Enjoy the sunshine."

And just like that, they were outside, watching Professor McGonagall march back into the castle.

Emma’s hands shook. “It’s tonight. I know it.”

“We’ll figure something out,” Killian said, putting an arm around her as Mary Margaret came round the other side. It was a brief hug, because Killian caught sight of the last person he wanted to see right now. “Watch out, here comes Snape."

Snape narrowed his eyes as he passed them and if anyone would find standing out in the sunshine a crime, Killian was sure Snape would. But the teacher only nodded at them. They nodded back and he moved on.

David let out a sigh. “Reckon one of us should keep an eye on him?”

Emma nodded.

“Okay, Mary Margaret, you go hang outside the staff room,” David said, pointing.

“Why don’t you go hang outside the staff room?” Mary Margaret shot back.

“Because,” David drew the word out, “no one is going to believe me if I say I’m waiting around for Doc, but you’ve been talking the professors’ ears off about exams since day one.”

Mary Margaret looked thoughtful. “Well, I did have a question about number fourteen…”

David bit back a smile, but wisely said nothing.

“Good,” Emma said. “While she’s doing that, I think David, Killian, and me should keep an eye on the third floor corridor. You game?”

It seemed like a reasonable plan, so they said goodbye to Mary Margaret and tromped up to the third floor. As soon as they got to the door, Emma pressed her ear against it, eyes closed as she listened.

“He’s still there,” she whispered.

They all breathed a sigh of relief.

“Okay, do you think maybe we should split up?” David asked. He gestured to one end of the corridor. “Post a guard at each end? And then one here by the door, just in case?”

“I bet one of us could fit behind that suit of armor,” Killian said.

Emma let out a muffled squeak, her eyes going wide.

“What?” Killian and David asked.

“Oh, I don’t think so.”

All three of them turned to see Professor McGonagall standing at the end of the corridor, her arms crossed over her chest. Her stare pinned their feet to the floor and the swishing of her robes as she stormed down the hall might have been the most ominous sound Killian had ever heard. “I suppose you think that you three can do a better job protecting that stone that an entire school’s worth of professors, do you?”

She stopped right beside Killian and he remembered the way she had held Regina up by her ear. He swallowed hard and tried to appear as small as possible. Her nails looked very, very sharp.

“But, Professor—”

“Don’t you ‘But, Professor’ me, young lady.” She leaned over the three of them. “I have had enough of this nonsense. If I hear you three— no, four have been anywhere near this door again it will be another fifty points from Gryffindor!”

David gasped.

“Yes, Nolan! From my very own house.” The glint in her eye sent them scurrying all the way back to the common room.

They flopped down on the couch miserably.

Emma rubbed at the scar again. “Well, at least we know Mary Margaret’s on Snape’s tail. If he moves she’ll tell us.”

The Fat Lady creaked and Mary Margaret came into the room, her normally pale cheeks flaming.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “Everything was fine for a little while, but then Snape came out and wanted to know what I was doing, so I said I was waiting for Doc. Snape went to get him. I didn’t know what else to do but ask my question and by the time Doc had finished…” She waved her hands helplessly. “I don’t know where Snape went.”

“That’s it.” Emma threw the pillow she had been holding onto the floor, it landed with a loud _fwump_. “The only thing left to do is sneak out of here tonight and get the Stone before Snape does."

"But you'll be expelled!" Mary Margaret protested. She said the word like it was the worst fate she could imagine.

Emma rolled her eyes. "Expelled is better than being dead! I'll use the invisibility cloak. No one will know I'm even out of bed."

Killian sat up. "Think that'll cover both of us?"

"Make it…" David cast a curious look at Mary Margaret. Her only response was to cross her arms and look sour. “Make it three of us.”

"I—I suppose. It fit two of us and a crate so…" Emma twisted the hem of her sweater. "David. Killian. I can't ask you to..."

“You’re not asking,” Killian replied. “Now, what do you say we all get some dinner?”

The wait after dinner was excruciating. Killian spent the entire time expecting Professor McGonagall to burst into the common room, point a spindly finger at each of them, and demand to know what in the world they thought they were doing. Emma twisted the hem of her sweater until it was absolutely ragged.

Mary Margaret paced nearby, stopping at intervals as David hissed, “Sit down and relax,” at her. She would listen for two minutes before she was on her feet again, pacing and fidgeting. It felt like time trickled by, people leaving the common room in groups of two and three. At last, Leroy Jordan, the last person in the common room, yawned the loudest yawn Killian ever heard and headed upstairs.

Emma jumped to her feet and dashed upstairs to retrieve her cloak.

"If anything happens to us," she said to Mary Margaret, "tell Dumbledore everything."

Killian and David got up, huddling close to Emma, but before she could throw the cloak around their shoulders, Mary Margaret blocked their way.

"Wait..." She shifted from one foot to the other. "You can't go."

"We've already been over this," Emma said. "I can't let Snape get that Stone."

"You'll be caught, Emma." Mary Margaret's voice wavered, she looked about to back off. She paused. Then she took a step forward, throwing her shoulders back and lifting her chin. "And that's the best case scenario. You can't go after a teacher on your own."

"She's not on her own," Killian and David said at the same time.

"You’re students!" Mary Margaret hissed. "We should go to bed, wait for Dumbledore to get back. He can stop Snape. He'll protect you, Emma."

"Rumplestiltskin will have the stone by tomorrow," Emma countered. “Mary Margaret, you _know_ what’s at stake. We have to go!”

Mary Margaret pulled out her wand. "I'm not letting you."

But Killian was just as quick and he already had his hand on his wand. " _Petrificus Totalus_!"

Mary Margaret dropped her wand as her arms snapped to her sides and her legs locked up. She stared at Killian with wide eyes as she tipped, tilted, and fell face forward. Killian expected that. He sprang toward her, catching her before she hit the ground. David was with him and they lowered her gently the ground.

"Sorry, about that, Mary Margaret," Killian said, pushing his bangs out of his face.

"No, not there.” Emma sounded shaken. "Someone might trip over her."

Mary Margaret was little more than a living log--pure, dead weight as the three of them lifted her with effort and placed her on the couch. Once they had her settled, Emma pulled a blanket over her so that she wouldn’t get cold. Her eyes followed them the entire time, but nothing else moved.

"Will she be alright?" Emma asked.

"It's a Full Body Bind," Killian said, "it won't hurt her."

"Okay.” Emma leaned over their friend, tucking the blanket under her chin. “It'll be alright, Mary Margaret, I promise. We'll be back with the Stone in no time."

He felt sick with guilt as Emma threw the cloak over them . Liam would be so disappointed with him for using that spell on a friend. Of course, he knew Mary Margaret had been about to use it on them. They had discovered it together. She would understand later, he hoped. This was Emma’s life they were talking about it and if the adults weren’t going to do anything to stop You-Know-Who, then it was up to them.

All the way up to the third floor corridor it felt like ants were crawling over him, but he daren’t look around under the cloak to see if anyone was watching them. Instead, he kept his eyes fixed on the hallways in front of them.

At the staircase up to the third floor, they ran into a problem.

Peeves hovered over the floor, pudgy fingers picking at the carpet so that it would trip people.

Killian sucked in a breath as the ghost turned in their direction.

“Who’s there?” Peeves said in a nasal voice as they tried to squeeze past him. His wicked, black eyes glinted in the darkness. “I can’t see you, but you’re there.” They backed up quickly as Peeves waved a hand in front of him. “Are you ghoulie or ghostie or wee student beastie?”

Emma bit her lip.

The ghost rose up, drifting this way and that in front of them. “Should call Filch, I should, if something’s a-creeping around unseen.”

“Peeves,” David said in a hoarse whisper. He waved off the hand Killian tried to clap over his mouth. “The Bloody Baron has his reasons for being invisible.”

Peeves dropped suddenly, nearly hit the floor before he slowed, hands fumbling together. “Sorry, so sorry, your bloodiness—Mr. Baron—sir…My mistake, my mistake—I didn’t—of course I didn’t, you’re invisible—forgive old Peevsie he thought you were a student out of bed.”

Killian pressed a hand over his mouth, fighting back a giggle.

“Stay away from this place tonight, Peeves,” David continued, “I have business here.”

“Oh, yes sir, I will. Most certainly I will. I’ll stay out of your way, not a bother, not old Peeves.” And he hustled off, his little legs working even if his feet didn’t touch the ground.”

Emma breathed a sigh of relief.

Killian slung an arm around David’s neck. “That was _brilliant_ , mate!”

“Yes, brilliant,” Emma hissed. “Now let’s go.”

They all took the stairs two at a time. If he had been with anyone else, Killian knew he would have tripped over one of them, but the three of them moved in a sort of sync. They were at the end of the corridor in a matter of seconds.

And they were already too late.

The door to Fluffy's cell stood open.

Emma let out a cry of despair and rushed forward, stopping just short of the door. Giant, snuffling snores echoed into the hallway.

"He's got it," Killian whispered. His brain whirled, trying to think of places they could hide Emma until Dumbledore came back tomorrow. He'd heard David's brother talking about secret passageways once with Leroy. Had they been talking about real passages? Or just discussing something that might be?  

"We don't know that," Emma said, pulling the cloak off. She squared her shoulders. "Okay, if you two want to go back, I won't blame you."

"Don't be stupid," Killian said.

"We're coming," David finished.

They crept closer to the door, leaning over each other as they peered into the room. All three of the dog’s heads snapped up, noses pointed at them and sniffing wildly. At its feet sat a small harp.

Fluffy growled.

"Okay, then," Emma said and she pulled a wooden flute out of her pocket. “Time to put this to use I suppose.”

Killian would not in a million years call what she played music, but at the first low whistle of the flute, the dog's eyes drooped. The growls grew quieter and quieter until they turned to snores.

David gagged as they crept closer to the dog and he got a lungful of its breath.

"What does Hagrid feed this thing?" Killian whispered.

“Judging by what he fed Norbert? Probably fire whisky and rotten meat,” David replied, his face scrunched up in disgust.

“Hagrid would never feed one of his animals rotten meat.”

“Unless that what it liked.” David grimaced. “He’d probably keep the meat in his hut to make sure it spoiled properly.”

As they talked, the two boys stepped carefully over the dog's legs and bent for the ring of the trapdoor. The heavy door required a Herculean effort from them both, but they got it open.

Killian peered inside, trying to make out some detail besides utter darkness.

David swallowed. "Don't suppose you feel like going first, Killian."

Emma saved Killian from responding by waving at them. She pointed to herself and then to the darkness.

"Really?" he asked.

"Emma, you can't tell how deep this thing goes," David said, leaning over the lip again.

In response, she shoved the flute at Killian. The dog’s big ears twitched the minute the tune stopped and Killian put it to his mouth instead of arguing with her, blowing until he produced a steady whistle. Fluffy relaxed again.

Emma fearlessly sat on the lip of the hole. Without warning she pushed off the lip and dropped out of sight.

Killian almost stopped playing.

There was an odd sort of _thump_ followed by, "It's okay! It's… something soft. You're fine to jump."

David clambered into the hole next, feet first, lowering himself until Killian could only see his fingertips. He let go. Still blowing on the flute--he wasn't doing much better than Emma--Killian edged up to the hole, feeling carefully with his toes. At last, he felt for the lip. He stopped playing when he found it and took a deep breath.

He jumped.

He heard the snaps of three enormous sets of teeth as he fell. Down, down, down, and-- _FLUMP_. He was sprawled all over something soft. He felt around him, feeling the slightly waxy skin of a plant. Something curled around his ankles.

Heart in his throat, he whipped out his wand and cried "Lumos!"

"Killian! What the hell?" Emma threw her hand up to shield her eyes.

"Look!" he jabbed a finger at her and David.

The same long, twisting creepers grabbing at Killian's ankles had wrapped all the way around Emma and David's legs. He yanked hard one last time and snapped the last vine in two, but Emma and David weren't as lucky. The more they struggled, the higher the vines wrapped around them. Killian wracked his brain. He knew he'd heard of such a plant. It was in his herbology book—and there had been a question about it on—

"It's Devil's Snare," he shouted.

"Thanks for that completely helpful information," David shouted, struggling to free his arms.

"Shut up," Killian shot back. "I'm trying to remember how to kill it… creeping vines, likes dark and damp..."

"Then light a fire!" Emma gasped. The vines were all the way up to her chest.

"I don't have any wood!"

"KILLIAN, YOU NINNY, YOU'RE A WIZARD!" David bellowed.

"Oh!" With a flick of his wand, Killian muttered the same spell that he used to set Snape's robes on fire. The vines started smoldering and wriggling, unraveling as they loosed Emma and David. He held out his free hand, helping each of them away from the roots.

"Good thing you pay attention in herbology," Emma said, drawing several shaky breaths.

"Good thing some of us keep cool head under pressure." David shook his head. "Honestly. 'I don't have any wood'."

Killian tucked his wand back into his robes with flaming cheeks.

Emma tilted her head toward a looming arch. "This way, I think."

They followed her down a sloping passageway, the light from Emma's wand glistening on the water trickling down the walls. Killian shivered.

"Shh, hear that?" David asked.

They all froze. A soft rustling, clinking sound broke the silence up ahead.

They all exchanged quick glances and hurried on, coming to a brightly lit chamber. Killian craned his neck all the way back before he found the ceiling high above them. A flash of color darted across his vision. Bringing his gaze a little closer to him he found bright, jeweled birds fluttering about twenty feet off the ground.

"Is it just me, or does that looks too easy?" Emma asked, pointing to the door on the opposite side the room. There was nothing else there save for the birds fluttering high above them.

"One way to find out," David said.

Emma slid her wand back into its pocket. "Here’s the plan: I'll run and we'll see what happens."

"I don't think--"

But she was already racing across the room, her robes held over her head, so Killian let the sentence die.

The jeweled birds stayed far above them and Emma reached the other side unscathed. She hauled on the door, but it held fast. Killian and David came to help her, but the door remained firmly shut.

“Hold on,” Killian said, pulling out his wand. “ _Alohomora!_ ”

Nothing happened.

"There's got to be a way in," Killian said, turning back to the room. He scratched behind his ear as he thought. "Maybe it has to do with the birds. They can't just be for decoration."

Emma's eyes lit up. "Of course." She grabbed his arm, pointing. "Look, they're keys. Winged keys!" She bit her lip, scanning the room. "And there! Broomsticks."

Killian nodded. "We've got to catch the right one."

"But there are hundreds of them!" David said.

Killian ran his fingers over the lock. "We're looking for a big, old-fashioned one. Silver like the handle."

Emma nodded vigorously. Golden hair streaming in the bright light, she ran for one of the brooms.

The boys were right behind her. Killian was much better at flying that he had been at the beginning of the year, but he was unprepared for the task of flying chasing the bird-like keys. He almost fell off his broom several times. David fared better and Emma was a blur, flitting after this key and then the next at boggling speeds. Killian couldn’t keep up. The keys darted about so quickly it was hard to tell what kind of key they were.

"There! That blue one!" Emma pointed to a key, big and silver with a bent wing, like it had already been caught and stuffed in a lock.

The three of them wasted several minutes trying to capture the key.

“Hold on,” Emma said, pulling her broom up short and hovering. “We need to trap it. Killian you go low, keep it from flying down. David you go high and come at it from above. I’ll try to catch it.”

“Right,” Killian and David said.

They circled around until they were in position.

“Ready?” Emma called. “Now!”

Focusing on the key with all his might, Killian rocketed upward. David came at him from the opposite direction. Emma zipped between them, crowding the key toward the wall. With a vicious crunch she trapped it.

“YEAH!” Killian and David whooped. David did a loop with his broom, fist raised high over his head.

They landed by the door and Emma shoved the key into the lock.

Killian felt a little sorry for the poor thing, it looked very battered now that it had been caught twice.

The hinges squealed as they hauled the door open and they rushed into the next room.

Torches sprang to life as they entered, revealing a giant chessboard, complete with pieces twice as tall as Killian. He swallowed, looking up at the grim-faced black king. On the other side, just beyond the lined up white pieces, was the door. The chessboard took up nearly the whole room, there wasn’t even any room at the sides for them to sneak past.

Emma took a step forward and the black queen’s head swiveled around to look at each of them.

Emma froze, her mouth making a little ‘o’.

"What now?" Killian asked, eyeing the mace in the knight’s hand warily. He’d played enough games of wizard’s chess to know how lethal those were.

"We play our way across, obviously," David said.

"How?"

"We listen to David," Emma said. "No offense, Killian, but he's been playing loads longer than either of us."

Killian held up his hands. "None taken."

David started giving orders right away. He put Emma in the place of a bishop and Killian in the place of a castle, before taking the place of a knight. Killian resisted the urge to bite his nails as a white pawn moved forward with a grating sound.

David shouted commands to the black pieces and they obeyed silently.

Their first casualty came before long. The white queen smashed the knight that wasn’t David and dragged him off the board. Even though they knew what to expect, it took a minute to collect themselves and move on with play. The knight was the first, but not the last. With every black piece that joined the pile on the other side of the board, Killian’s knees trembled a little more violently, but he held his place.

David darted around fearlessly, more than making up for the pieces they lost. Killian and Emma were almost to the other side of the board when the white queen rotated in his direction.

"David!" Emma shouted.

"NO! Stay there!" He held up a hand, head high as he faced the queen and her wicked stone sword. "Emma, as soon as she takes me, you can checkmate the king. Do you see?"

Emma nodded, tears streaking down her cheek. "But..."

"Do you want to stop Snape?"

"David," Killian tried, but David cut him off with a wave of the hand.

"This is chess. You have sacrifice pieces to win." His eyes looked impossibly blue as he met each of their eyes in turn. He took a deep breath. "I can do this. Don't hang around once you're through, Snape's already too far ahead."

Killian covered his eyes as David stepped right into the white queen's path, but that didn't shield his ears from the sickening crunch. He opened his eyes in time to see the queen drag David's limp form to the side.

Emma took three shaky steps to the left and the white king threw his crown at her feet.

Killian didn’t waste any time, he bolted for the door, grabbing Emma’s arm as he went. “He’ll be alright,” he told her, hoping it sounded more convincing than it felt. He knew the worst was still ahead of them.

"That was McGonagall's," he said as they entered the next passageway. "And the Devil's Snare was clearly Professor Anton's."

"And Flitwick probably charmed the keys." Emma paused at the next door, swallowing as she laid her hand on the handle. "Which leaves Heller, Dumbledore, and Snape's spell."

He nodded.

“Ready?”

“Ready.”

Emma pushed the door open. Noxious air flooded out of the room beyond, causing them both to pull their robes up over their noses. Emma swiped at her eyes with her sleeve.

"Glad we don't have to deal with that," she choked out, skirting past the troll laid flat out on the floor.

Killian tried not to gag. "Yeah."

The next room couldn’t have been more different. It was empty save for a single table standing in the middle. On the table sat seven bottles, no two the same shape.

"Snape's?" Emma guessed.

"Snape's."

Cautiously, they stepped into the room, grateful for the clean, dank air. There was a pop and a hiss as purple fire sprang up behind them.

No going back. No going forward either, Killian realized as a wall of black fire came to life on the other side of the room, blocking them from the only other door.

With a shrug, Emma feigned nonchalance, but her eyes were wide as saucers as she approached the table. A small scroll lay in front of the bottles. She picked it up with two fingers, holding it far away from her as she unrolled it gingerly. When it didn’t explode in her face, she started reading. Her eyes got even wider the further she got down the page.

"What do you make of this?" she asked, shoving the paper at Killian.

Killian carefully unrolled the parchment.

_Danger lies before you, while safety lies behind,_

_Two of us will help you, whichever you would find,_

_One among us seven will let you move ahead,_

_Two among our number hold only nettle wine,_

_Three of us are killers, waiting hidden in line._

_Choose, unless you wish to stay here forevermore,_

_To help you in your choice, we give you these clues four:_

_First, however slyly the poison tries to hide_

_You will always find some on nettle wine’s left side;_

_Second, different are those who stand on either end,_

_But if you would more onward, neither is your friend;_

_Third, as you see clearly, all are different size,_

_Neither dwarf nor giant holds death in their insides;_

_Fourth, the second left and the second on the right_

_Are twins one you taste them, though different at first sight._

"Oh, this is brilliant," he said.

"What is brilliant?"

Killian waved the scroll in the air. "It's a logic puzzle. Most wizards haven't got an ounce of logic, they'd be suck here for ages!"

"I don't know why you're so happy about that." Emma planted her hands on her hips. "That means we'll be stuck here for ages, too."

"No, we won't." Killian grinned. "My—I happen to know a thing or two about riddles."

His mum had been obsessed with riddles. When he was little she used to babble them non-stop. As he grew, he learned that nothing calmed her down the way a riddle or word puzzle did. He spent years searching out new riddles every time he went to school, because they put a smile on his mother’s face. She loved puzzling them out with him. He'd gotten very good at them.

"Well? What's the answer then?"

"Give me a minute."

He worked through each of the clues, mentally arranging the bottles in his mind. The one on the far left couldn't be the nettle wine, but it could be poison. The biggest bottle and the littlest bottle weren't poison. Neither of the bottles at the end could get them past the black flames.

Finally, he plucked up the smallest bottle. "This will get us to the next room."

Emma frowned as she took it and looked inside. She pursed her lips together, brows drawn tight.

"Killian, which bottle will get us back the way we came?"

Killian pointed to the bottle all the way on the right.

"There's barely any of this potion left," she said, holding up the bottle in her hand. "Not enough for both of us. You should take that bottle and go back for Dave."

"But—"

"Rumplestiltskin is after me," Emma said. "I got lucky once, maybe I'll get lucky again."

He bit down on his lip to keep it from trembling. "You're an amazing witch, you know."

"Not as good as you," she said with a sad smile.

"Me?" Killian resisted the urge to itch behind his ear and couldn't manage to meet Emma's eyes. "I'm clever and I've read a lot, but I think friendship and bravery are a bit more important."

"You're a good friend, too, Killian." Her voice warbled. Suddenly, she launched herself forward, wrapping her arms around his shoulders.

Only Liam and his mother had ever hugged him before and the exuberance of her affection took him aback. It was nice, he decided. He hugged her back quickly.

"Quick, Snape might already be in there." He held out a hand, arresting her as she lifted her bottle to her lips. "Let me try first."

"You’re sure you're right?" She searched his face, her eyes shimmering with more emotions that he could name.

"Positive."

He downed the whole potion in his bottle. His fingers and toes tingled, a wave of cold sweeping straight to his core and meeting the cold lump in his gut. It was like drinking a hundred glasses of ice water at once. With a deep breath, he ran straight through the purple flames. He paused at the door, waving to Emma that he was alright. She nodded and lifted the small bottle to her lips as he reentered the chess room.

David sat near the door, propped up against one of the broken knights, cradling his arm to his chest. He had a large, purpling bruise on his forehead. He struggled to get up when he saw Killian.

"Emma? Is she—"

"She's alright. Or she was when I left her,” Killian said, kneeling next to him. “Only one of us could move on, so she sent me back for you. You're a mess, mate."

"I feel a mess."

"Here, let’s get you up." He gingerly took David's god arm, hauling it over his shoulder.

David groaned.

"Sorry!"

"How are we going to get out of here?" David asked. "I can barely walk."

"Can you fly with a bum arm?"

David grinned at him, or at least, that's what Killian thought it was supposed to be as it looked a bit more like a grimace with his face all messed up.

"Only need one to hold on."

"Right, let's get you on a broom then."

Killian couldn’t help checking over his shoulder every few minutes as he helped David hobble back across the chessboard. He expected the queen or a knight to reanimate and bar their way, but all the pieces held exactly as they were when he fled the room with Emma. At last, they reentered the room of glittering keys.

Killian left David leaning against the wall as he ran to retrieve the two brooms. Then came the tricky part. With his bad ankle it took several minutes for David to balance enough to mount the broom.

Though he wanted to hurry, he and David took a slower pace the rest of the way back. Killian was the only one with a hand free for a wand and he knew they'd do Emma no good if they plastered themselves against a wall. When they reached the room with the Devil's Snare, Killian groaned.

"We forgot about Fluffy."

"I've got an idea. Whatever you do, Killian, don't stop flying." And then he broke out into one of the songs for his favorite Quidditch team, the Chudley Cannons. Belting it at the top of his lungs, he headed straight for the still open trapdoor.

Killian followed right behind. He zipped out the trapdoor right behind David, expecting Fluffy's huge jaws to snap on him the minute he popped out. But the big dog snored in rhythm with David's bellowing. Only once they were through the still-open door did David stop singing. Killian managed to get the door closed just as the dog started growling.

They both let out long sighs.

"I need to get an owl out to Professor Dumbledore," Killian said, "will you be—"

"I have already sent an owl to Professor Dumbledore," Professor McGonagall announced. She stepped out of the shadows around a suit of armor, her face pinched in anger. "What in the world did you two think you were doing? Where is Miss Swan?"

Her skin was so pale, she looking like one of the ghosts.

"Uh..." David said.

"Emma's down there," Killian said.

Professor McGonagall went even whiter.

"David got hurt beating your chess spell and Emma sent me back with him while she went into the next room..."

"You… beat… you solved..." Professor McGonagall sputtered.

"And now she needs us to get up to the owlery and send a message to Dumbledore, because Snape was ahead of us the entire time."

She pulled herself up to her full height, looking down her nose at them. "I just spoke with Professor Snape not ten minutes ago," she said, "I can assure you that he's not down there."

"He's not?" Killian blinked. If not Snape, then who? "Well, someone is down there with her. Someone bent that key and knocked out that troll and drank the potion!"

"I believe you," Professor McGonagall said after a moment of consideration. "Well, Mr. Jones, I think you had better help Mr. Nolan to the hospital wing. I will send a message to Professor Dumbledore." Her robes swished as she turned, muttering to herself.

David chose to remain on his broom for the trip to the infirmary, hovering just above the ground as Killian steered. Madam Pomfrey answered the door in her nightgown, a lacey bonnet covering her hair. When she saw David all battered and bruised, she tutted at them and ushered them inside.

Killian suppressed a shudder. He couldn't imagine why she slept in the little room off the entrance. The hospital wing was clean, certainly, almost too clean and so devoid of color, with the pale walls and white sheets and the beds lined up in two neat rows.

David climbed onto the nearest one with a groan.

"You can sit over there, Mr. Jones," Madam Pomfrey said, pointing to a chair by the door. Meekly, Killian obeyed, curling into the chair and trying to keep very still. This room felt too much like a hospital for his liking and he twice caught himself bouncing his leg erratically.

David yelped as Madam Pomfrey poked at his arm and declared it broken. With potions and her wand, she set to repairing the damage inflicted by the white queen.

"There, I think that should about do, Mr Nolan, how do you—"

Something hit the infirmary doors with great thundering booms, over and over again.

"Oh, what now?" Pomfrey muttered.

The door swung open before she could get to it and Professor Dumbledore rushed in, Emma hanging limp and pale in his arms. Killian jumped to his feet.

"Emma?"

No one paid him any mind. Madam Pomfrey ceased tending to David and rushed over to help Dumbledore, cradling Emma’s head as they placed her on a bed.

"What happened, sir?" she asked.

In a low voice, Dumbledore explained everything. Professor Heller, it seemed, had been possessed by You-Know-Who. Emma had got the Stone and held him off, but the effort left her drained and unconscious. The remains of Professor Heller sounded especially gruesome to Killian’s ears. As Dumbledore whispered hurriedly, he seemed far removed from the cool, eccentric man of the start of the year banquet.

Madam Pomfrey fussed over Emma the entire time, taking her pulse and looking in her eyes. At last, she took a step back. "Well, I think she'll be alright, professor. Just needs a bit of rest."

Killian and David both breathed sighs of relief.

A mistake on their part. It got them kicked out of the infirmary with instructions not to come back until the sun had risen.

The Fat Lady was surprised to see them, but she let them when they mumbled the password and that was all that mattered.

“I’m glad classes are over,” David said with a yawn. “I’m going to sleep until noon. Gods, that’ll earn me an earful from Mary Margaret, she probably wants to…”

Killian froze.

“What?”

"David," he said, turning toward the couch. "We almost forgot about Mary Margaret."

David's eyes grew three sizes, he looked ready to bolt up the stairs.

Killian didn't hesitate, crossing to the couch and taking out his wand. The counter spell was quick and Mary Margaret sat up carefully.

"Sorry,” Killian said, “we didn't mean to forget."

"I hope you have a better apology than that," she said, her voice all high and squeaky. Her eyes filled with tears as she glowered at him.  "Do you know what I've been doing? I've been lying there waiting for someone to come tell me my best friends were _dead_...” She inhaled sharply. “Wait, where's Emma?"

David crept over, like a dog expecting to be hit. “Madam Pomfrey is fixing her up.”

“Fixing her up?” Mary Margaret exclaimed. “What happened?

David and Killian exchanged a glance. And then launched into what happened, reliving each moment as they told it. Mary Margaret sat slack-jawed as they explained how they got past Fluffy and then the Devil’s Snare. She listened intently to their description of the keys and gripped David’s hand when he spoke of the chess game. And then they came to the logic puzzle, which she insisted on solving herself. At last, Killian told her the story Dumbledore told Madam Pomfrey.

“And that’s all we know,” he said with a shrug. “Emma didn’t have a scratch on her, but supposedly Heller’s whole face was melted off.”

"But Madam Pomfrey says she'll be alright, right?" Mary Margaret twisted her fingers in her lap.

Killian nodded. "She said we could come round in the morning."

"After we've got some sleep." David yawned. "I'm going up to bed. G'night Mary Margaret."

She gaped as he trudged upstairs. Killian shrugged. That was Dave.

Killian stayed downstairs to answer a few more of her questions, but she noticed that he was tired, finally, and let him follow David upstairs. On the way up, he thought he would stay up the rest of the night worrying about Emma, but instead, he fell into bed like something dead. He didn't even register David's snores before he fell asleep.

For the next three days, he, Mary Margaret, and David kept a vigil in the infirmary, leaving only for meals and when Madam Pomfrey kicked them out at night. They watched over her in shifts. Madam Pomfrey was quite strict when it came to how many visitors could be with Emma at any one time and their classmates insisted on stopping by with gifts and questions. Lots of questions. They didn’t get many answers though, because Madam Pomfrey always ushered them off as soon as soon as their gift was placed on the little bedside table. All except for Happy and Leroy. They had procured a pick axe and tried to sneak it in as a gift and Madam Pomfrey nearly boxed both their ears with it.

On the third day, Emma had a visitor even Madam Pomfrey wouldn’t argue with. Dumbledore.

"You are starting to look a bit pale, Mr. Jones,” the old professor said, placing his hand on Killian’s shoulder. "My apologies, I did not mean to startle you." He nodded at the sun streaming in through the windows. "I believe they are serving lunch at the moment. And then I think you should go get some sun. It will do Miss Swan little good to have you end up in the bed next to her."

"I'm—"

"Go, I'll sit with her for a little while, I think." The professor shooed him away from the bedside, folding his hands over his long, white beard as he occupied the chair next to Emma’s bed.

"What are you doing down here?" Mary Margaret asked as he sat next to her. Their success appeared to have wiped the memory of their betrayal from her mind, for she hadn't berated them once for hexing her and going after the Stone. "Is everything okay? I thought we’d agreed that I’d come relieve you after lunch." She dug around in her satchel, looking for one of her color-coded schedules. In true Mary Margaret fashion, she had drawn up a time sheet with each of the shifts they pulled. She said it was so they wouldn’t squabble over who got to sit with Emma, but Killian knew it was because she felt better when things were in neat little boxes.

"Professor Dumbledore told me he'd like to sit with her a while." Killian filled his plate. Perhaps if he ate a good lunch, the professor wouldn't force him to go outside and he could sit with Mary Margaret while she sat with Emma.

They talked quietly as they ate, grumbling about the Slytherins pulling ahead in the House Cup. Regina was beyond smug over at the table with her little clique.

"Can't believe my brother took up with those rotters," David mumbled around a mouthful of peanut butter sandwich.

"At least you won't have to deal with Regina," Mary Margaret muttered. "Gran might absolutely refuse to have Cora round the house, but that rule doesn’t apply to Regina. She’s sure to be round a least once this summer."

"Excuse me."

The three children turned to find Professor McGonagall standing behind them. "Professor Dumbledore wished me to inform you that Miss Swan is awake."

Servingware clattered against their plates as they abandoned their lunches and rushed out of the Great Hall. As they left, the whispers of students grew to a hushed roar. Everyone had heard of their adventure beneath the school, of course, because Leroy and Happy had pinned David down until he told the whole story. Killian added details out of sympathy—and because he wasn’t sure if the two older boys would turn on him next.

For once, he wasn’t paying any attention to the eyes on him.

Madam Pomfrey stopped them at the door to the infirmary.

“But you just let Professor Dumbledore in!” Killian said. “He got to talk to her.”

“Professor Dumbledore is the headmaster,” she replied calmly.

“Please,” Mary Margaret said, “just five minutes. We just want to know she’s okay.”

Madam Pomfrey sighed. “Fine. Five minutes.”

She stepped back as they burst through the door.

“Emma!” Killian called racing down the row.

She called out their names as they crowded around her, reaching for each of them with a bright grin on her face.

“I was so worried,” Mary Margaret exclaimed. She perched on the side of Emma’s bed, capturing one of her hands.

“What happened?” David asked, plopping down in the chair.

“Are you alright?” Killian asked.

“Goodness. Are you going to stop talking long enough for me to answer all of you?”

They laughed.

Emma told them all about the last room. Finding the Mirror, being surprised by Heller, figuring out how to find the Stone, fighting the teacher off, Rumplestiltskin. Even though he knew the ending of the story, Killian’s heart was in his throat the entire time.

In turn, Killian and David supplied their side of the story.

Emma got a stitch laughing when they got to the part about David singing. “Oh, I wish I could have seen that.” She sat back, reaching for the box of Bertie Bott’s beans that David was munching on. “How did things go while I was out?”

“Terribly,” David grumbled. “Slytherin has the House Cup.”

Emma looked like she might be angry for a minute, but then she shrugged. “But we have the Stone and Rumplestiltskin doesn’t.”

It was good attitude to take. After everything they’d been through the last few days, the House Cup seemed rather trivial to Killian.

Of course, that didn't make walking into the Great Hall the next evening any easier. Madam Pomfrey insisted that Emma stay in the infirmary one last night and wouldn’t let them see her at all the next day, so he, Mary Margaret, and David headed down without her—though they saved her a seat. She slid in next to Killian a few minutes late, head held high despite Oliver Wood's dour expression.

She glared in Regina's direction and muttered, "Next year."

"Next year we'll win for sure," David said. "And I bet we'll take the Quidditch Cup too."

Emma grinned.

They all fell silent as Professor Dumbledore stood. "I believe there is a House Cup that needs awarding. The points stand as thus: In fourth place, Gryffindor, with three hundred and twelve points; in third, Hufflepuff, with three hundred and fifty-two."

"Can't believe we let Hufflepuff—" David cut off quickly.

Mary Margaret had elbowed him in the ribs.

"Ravenclaw has four hundred and twenty-six and Slytherin, four hundred and seventy-two."

Cheers erupted from the Slytherin table, as loud as if they were hearing the news for the first time. Everyone else glared at them. Three straight days of gloating had left Slytherin with few friends outside of their own house.

Dumbledore raised a hand. "Yes, well done, Slytherin. However, there are recent events to take into account."

The Slytherins stopped clapping, their smiles stayed, but they were as faded as a well-washed stain.

Silence fell over the hall.

"Let me see." Dumbledore cleared his throat. "To Mr. David Nolan, for the best played game of chess Hogwarts has seen in many years, I award fifty points."

David's jaw dropped open. Half-hearted cheers pattered down the length of the table. A nice gesture from the professor, but all it did was put them ahead of Hufflepuff.

"Yes, yes." Dumbledore gestured for silence. "Second, to Mr. Killian Jones, for the use of cool logic in the face of fire, I award fifty points."

Now some of Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff joined the Gryffindor table, several hoots ringing out as students realized exactly what Dumbledore was doing. Killian felt his cheeks go red, but he didn't duck away like he normally would.

"He's right," Emma whispered. "You were both brilliant."

"Third, to Miss Emma Swan, for pure nerve and outstanding courage," Dumbledore paused, letting the silence sit for a long moment, "I award sixty points."

Everyone but Slytherin was cheering and hollering at this point. Hands pounded on their backs from all sides.

Killian had to shout above the crowd to be heard. "That ties us with Slytherin!"

Emma held her breath, turning to Dumbledore.

Dumbledore smiled and the room fell silent again. "There are many kinds of courage. It takes a great deal of bravery to stand up to our enemies, but just as much to stand up to our friends."

Emma let out a squeak, grabbing Killian's arm.

"I therefore award ten points to Miss Mary Margaret Blanchard. Now, I believe a change in decoration is in order.”

A roar burst from the crowd as he held his wand aloft. The flags hanging from the ceiling changed, red bleeding down over green until every single one held the gold lion on a scarlet field.

From his place a few seats down, Leroy Jordan jumped up onto the bench, yelling at the top of his lungs. “We won! Yeah! WE WOOOOOOON!”

David leaned over to say something to Mary Margaret. Killian's eyes followed as she turned. He nudged Emma, pointing out a very put out Regina.

Emma laughed.

She leaned in and said, "Look up there if you want to see something even better." She pointed to the head table.

Snape was shaking hands with Professor McGonagall, a brittle smile on his face. He scanned the crowd, meeting Killian's eyes for a brief second before settling behind him. On Emma. Killian sighed. He supposed there were worse things than teachers that couldn’t let go of a grudge.

# # #

The next few days passed in a blur and before Killian knew it, they were all packed up and boarding the Hogwarts Express for the trip home. He was excited—Liam had finally found them a little flat—but he was also sad to leave.

But he’d be coming back next year, he reminded himself as he followed his friends into one of the compartments.

As they slid into the benches, Emma pulled out a little bound book and started flipping through it.

"What's that?" Killian asked as he sat on the bench across from Emma.

She held it up so they could see the photo on the cover. "Hagrid gave it to me. He felt really bad about almost getting me killed."

"It's not his fault," Mary Margaret insisted.

"It kind of is," David said.

"I'm with Mary Margaret," Emma said, passing her the book. "It's all pictures from my parents’ friends. Of them."

Killian took the book when Mary Margaret offered it, leaning over so that David could see, too. The first picture was of a couple, a man with unruly blonde hair and a dark-haired woman who held a bald baby. The resemblance was clear. Even in the black and white photo, Killian could see that Baby Emma's eyes were the exact same shade as her mother’s. As he watched, the woman kissed the baby on the cheek and grinned at the camera again.

"I'm sorry, Emma," he said.

"For what?"

"That you have to go back home," he said. He didn’t know why, but according to Emma, she had to go back to the Dursley’s. His gut coiled at the thought of her being forced into that little closet beneath the stairs again. He was going to have his own room— _his own room_ —and his best friend would be sleeping on a mattress in a broom closet

David nodded somberly. "My mum even offered to have you stay the summer with us, but Dumbledore told her no, too."

She shrugged. "It's not your faults. Besides..." Emma turned, catching the last glimpse of Hogwarts as the train rounded the bend. "It's not home. Not really."

"We'll write you letters every day," Mary Margaret said and the others nodded.

"And Mum says you’re welcome to visit—all of you are." He laughed. “The more the merrier, that’s the motto at the Nolan house.”

"And Liam said our flat has a telephone," Killian said, "so I can call you!"

Emma's grin was blinding. She reached into her bag for a rumpled scrap of parchment and a pencil. She scrawled her phone number quickly and shoved it in Killian’s hand.

“What’s a telephone?” Mary Margaret asked, leaning over to read the number over Killian’s shoulder. She wrinkled her nose, confused.

“I’ve heard of those,” David said, "Dad says Muggles use them to communicate."

Mary Margaret blinked. "They don't use owls?"

Emma giggled. “No, most Muggles would think using an owl was ridiculous.”

“They used pigeons once. At least that’s what Dad says.”

“Well, we don’t use birds anymore.”

“Okay,” Mary Margaret said, “but what’s a telephone?”

“Well, it’s kind…it’s, um, usually made of plastic and it has these buttons with numbers on them. Like this.” She leaned over and started to draw on the remaining scrap of parchment.

“Hold on.” Mary Margaret bent over her bag, retrieving an old notebook and her quill. “I want to take notes.”

Emma laughed so hard it was a long time before she got back to explaining the workings of Muggle communication. And Mary Margaret did take notes as Emma talked about telephones and the post and the internet until she had no more answers to give.

King's Cross station came far too soon for Killian's liking. Soon, they were all packing up their snacks and filing into the hallway. After so many months as Hogwarts, the pressing crowd didn't feel quite so disorienting as it had on the trip out.

“There they are,” David said, spotting his parents almost immediately. He waved wildly before breaking off from the group. He and his brothers converged on them, even James ditched his Slytherin buddies to go say hello to his parents.

Mary Margaret was the next to go. “There’s Gran,” she said as she trotted off.

The crowd came between them before Killian caught a glimpse of the old woman in question.

Emma sighed. "I'd better get my things."

"I'll come with you," Killian said.

"And what's a scrawny thing like you going to do with a full trunk?" a familiar voice asked.

"Liam!" Killian whirled and there, hands propped on his hips and shaggy curls falling into his face, stood his brother. He sprinted through the crowd, seizing Liam’s hand. "David and Mary Margaret have already run off. Well, David's over there." He waved in the Nolans’ general direction. "And Mary Margaret is over that way somewhere, but you'll never find her in the crowd. But you have to meet Emma. I don’t think her family is here yet and…"

“Whoa, slow down, little brother.” Liam held up his free hand, laughing. “Let’s take it one step at a time.”

Emma watched them approach, her fingers clutching the strap of her bag. She smiled shyly.

"Emma. Emma this is my brother. Liam." He stopped in front of her, gesturing between the two of them.

She bit her lip, like she was trying not to laugh. "Pleased to meet you."

Liam extended a hand. "And you. Thanks for putting up with my brother this year."

"More like he had to put up with me," she said with a snort.

"I did hear you got into a spot of trouble."

Killian waited for him to say more, to mention the Dark One or her parents, but Liam didn't gawk or ask about her scar. He acted like it was perfectly natural that Killian made friends with The Girl Who Lived.

"Now, I believe we were retrieving your trunks?"

They led him to the back of the train and—after a few minutes of searching—pointed out the compartment. Hedwig hooted softly at them. Mary Margaret's trunk was gone, but David's still sat beneath Emma's. Liam spotted Killian’s trunk right away and as soon as they pointed out which one was Emma’s, he tapped them both with his wand. The slid out easily after that.

"I could have done that,” Killian said as he took hold of his handle.

"Not outside of school, you couldn't, little brother."

Killian blushed, eyes sliding to Emma. "Younger brother."

Liam rolled his eyes. "Let's go, I'm sure Emma's family is waiting."

She grimaced at the mention of the Dursleys, but didn't protest as they wove through the crowd. Right before they left the platform, they traded Liam’s levitation charm for a pair of trolleys.

Killian spotted the Dursleys almost immediately. They were huddled outside the station, eyeing everyone that passed by as though they expected them to be a witch or wizard. Killian looked at Emma, waiting for confirmation that this unpleasant looking family was indeed hers. He had hoped… Well, he had hoped that they wouldn't show up for her and she would have to go home with him and Liam, after all. Which was perhaps an awful thing to think, except he knew she would much prefer anywhere to the Dursleys' house.

Emma looked just as disappointed as her aunt and uncle when she caught sight of them.

"I'd better go, before Uncle Vernon gets too testy."

The fat man already looked testy, his great, bushy mustache quivering as he said something to his pinch-faced wife.

Liam pressed his lips together. “My brother told you I got us a telephone, yeah?”

Emma nodded.

Liam pulled a slip of paper out of his pocket. “I know what Dumbledore said, Emma, but if they give you any trouble, you call me. Alright?”

With a quick glance at her family, Emma took the slip of paper and tucked it into her shirt. “I will. Thanks.”

"Well, until next year, Swan," Killian said, sticking his hand out.

She laughed, shaking her head. And then she hugged him.

Killian hugged her back, feeling a little bad that he was already counting down the days until Liam would bring him back to this platform. He couldn’t help it, though.

"Don't forget to call.” Squaring her shoulders, she pushed her trolley in the Dursleys’ direction. Her fat cousin cowered behind his wasp-waisted mother as she approached.

“I wonder what happened there.”

"Who knows?" Liam drawled, slinging his arm around Killian's shoulders. "So… it appears my baby brother has found himself a girlfriend."

"What?" Killian blushed, his ears going warm. "Ew! Liam you're the worst."

His brother laughed, holding his hands up. "Teasing, little brother. I'm teasing."

"That’s still gross."

"Keep thinking that, Killian. It’ll make my life considerably easier," Liam said, lifting his trunk off the trolley. It was a little fuller than it had been at the start of term, but his brother still had no trouble balancing the thing on his shoulders. "Because I'd hate to have to get a job at Hogwarts to keep an eye on you."

Killian snorted. "You'd be so bored. Hardly anything happens at school. It's all classes and homework."

"And defeating the Dark One apparently..."

"That was all Emma. And it won't be like that next year, anyways."

Liam paused, swinging around so he could see Killian.

The silence lasted a moment and Killian got the sneaking suspicion that his brother wanted to bring up what happened beneath the school. He looked very sad.

"I hope not," he said finally. And he smiled. "Now, hurry up. You’ve got a new flat to see.”

"Alright!"

Liam headed for the bus station, Killian trotting beside him and jabbering about everything he had learned at Hogwarts. His brother wasn’t surprised by anything. Not the fact that Professor McGonagall could turn into a cat. Or that Snape was such a wanker. He listened patiently, stopping Killian only while they were on the bus. As they walked the rest of the way home, Killian found himself talking about his harried night under the school without prompting. He wanted Liam to know all about how brave his friends were. Liam looked grim at that part, but it made sense, Emma had almost died, after all.

They reached a little neighborhood, with shrubs around the houses and yards with toys strewn all over them. It wasn’t rundown, but it was the ritziest place Killian had ever seen. It felt quaint after the grandeur of Hogwarts, but Killian decided he liked it.

“Liam,” he said as they passed yet another house, “I thought you said you got a flat.”

“Flats are expensive in the city,” Liam returned.

“Aren’t houses more expensive?”

“They are indeed, but we aren’t living in a house.”

Despite what he said, he turned in at a drive that was very much attached to a house. An old lady knelt in the garden, working with a rose bush. She put down her garden shears as Killian and Liam came into the yard.

“Hello, there Liam, is this your brother?” she asked.

“Good afternoon, Mrs. Wendy,” Liam replied. “Yes, this is Killian. Killian this is Mrs. Wendy, she owns the house.”

“Pleased to meet you, ma’am,” Killian said holding out his hand.

“Oh and he has manners, too,” Mrs. Wendy said, pulling off one of her gardening gloves to shake Killian’s hand. “Well, I won’t keep you boys, I’m sure you’re tired from your journey.”

“Thank you, ma’am,” Liam said. He nodded and let Killian over to the side of the garage.

The garage was a two story yellow building, with wooden siding and a rickety looking staircase. It held, though, as Killian followed Liam up to the second floor. His brother let them in, setting the trunk down at the door.

Killian stood in the doorway, taking it all in. They were in a living room that had clearly been decorated by the old lady he had just met. The overstuffed couch and armchairs had lace doilies draped across their backs and arms. There was a little coffee table with a tea set on, a porcelain set with naked cherubs painted on the sides. The walls were painted a cheerful yellow, paler than the yellow on the outside. There were hints of his brother here, too. A stack of books sitting on the table. A shirt draped over the back of a chair, obscuring one of the doilies.

Liam pulled him inside and closed the door.

“That’s the kitchen,” he said, gesturing to a tiled room, identifiable by the mint green refrigerator visible just inside the door. “And this is the bathroom.” He opened the next door, revealing a blue room with floral tile accents. “And this is your room.”

Killian’s room was much like the rest of the flat, filled with flowers and pastel colors. The bed had a quilt on it that looked handmade and there was a doily stitched to his pillowcase.

“I know it’s probably not quite what you hoped,” Liam started.

“No, it’s perfect, Liam.” He hugged his brother.

Liam snorted. “I wouldn’t exactly call it perfect.”

“You’re here, brother,” Killian said, “that’s all I need.”

Liam opened his mouth to say something, then closed it again, choosing to hug Killian tighter instead.

“You can put your things in that dresser over there,” Liam said. “Why don’t we go get them?”

As Killian followed his brother back into the living room, he noticed something. There was the kitchen and the bathroom and they just left his room, but he didn’t see a door for Liam’s room. And there hadn’t been a second bed in Killian’s room.

“Liam, where is your room?”

Liam stopped, scratching behind his ear. “Well, for now...” He looked around them.

Killian finally noticed the pillow and the blanket folded at the end of the couch.

“You can’t sleep out here!” Killian said. “It’s not fair.”

Liam shrugged. “I’m not spending most of my year with four roommates. I can put up with the couch for a few weeks.”

“But…”

“No buts, Killian, I’m the older brother and it’s my right to sleep where I want.” He ruffled Killian’s hair. “And once you’re gone, that room is all mine. Got it?”

Killian laughed. “Got it.”

It was cozy in the little apartment. Dinner was nice. Nothing like he had at Hogwarts—Liam was a mediocre cook at best—but he got to help make it, so he thought it tasted better.

When Liam finally sent him off to bed, he thought he’d be able to fall asleep right away. But no matter how he lay, the cushioned mattress didn’t feel right. And the blankets were too hot, no matter how many of them he kicked off. And the pillow was lumpy.

And he was lonely.

At last, he got up and padded out into the living room.

Liam was sprawled on the couch’s fold out bed, but Killian thought there was just enough room for him. Quietly, trying not to disturb his brother, Killian climbed in with him. The springs creaked. Killian froze.

Liam snorted and shook himself awake. “Killian?” He sat up. “Everything okay?”

Killian didn’t know how to explain what he was feeling, so he shrugged. “Can I sleep out here with you?”

Liam scooted over without a word, lifting the covers for Killian to crawl under with him. They settled down again, sharing the single pillow. Silence fell and Killian started to drift off.

“Killian?”

“Yeah?”

“I want you to promise me something.”

Killian didn’t say anything to that, waiting.

Liam swallowed. “Listen, I’m glad you found friends and they sound like incredible kids, but next year…” More silence stretched, heavy, like a winter blanket. “Next year, I want you to be more careful, okay? No more fighting Dark Ones.” His brother wrapped his arms around Killian, squeezing him close. “Being brave is all well and good, Killian, but I don’t know what I’d do if I lost you. Okay?”

“Okay.” Killian nodded. He didn’t know what he would do without his brother either.  “Hey, Liam?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you think we could go visit Mom sometime soon?”

Another moment of silence.

“Yeah. Yeah, we’ll do that soon, okay?”

“Okay.”

“Sleep now, Killian.”

Killian did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you, thank you, thank you for EVERYONE who has been reading this and leaving me such nice reviews. I'm sure you're wondering whether I will be continuing the story for books 2 thru 7 and the answer is...YES! I'm taking a bit of time off from posting so I can get a few chapters in the shoot, but keep your eyes peeled for "Killian Jones and The Heir of Slytherin" sometime in November. 
> 
> Thank you again!


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